


A Girl Called Mike

by arazialotis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazialotis/pseuds/arazialotis
Summary: The reader disguises herself during hunting jobs as a man named Mike and has met up with the Winchesters several times. They are unaware of her true identity. Feeling they know and trust Mike, they agree to invite the reader to the bunker.





	1. Chapter 1

“You doing okay there Mike?” Dean came up asking you.

You had joined up with the Winchesters on a case, as you occasionally did, this time by accident as you both caught wind of a this one from a state news site. Ghouls it turned out to be. You couldn’t care less usually about ghouls, helped out the problem of decomposition, but when they started making snacks out of the living you had to put them back into place.

You used your ball cap to brush the dust and cobwebs off your flannel (the blood would require more intense cleaning) and placed it back atop your short haired wig that concealed your longer hair.

“Yup, I’m good.” You confirmed in your long-practiced lowered voice. You had used cigarettes at first, but after months of learning to talk with your throat, it eventually came naturally. “Except I keep wondering when it’s your turn to be the bait.” You joked.

Dean rested his hand on your shoulder as he laughed unknowing sending a wave of electricity through your body upon contact. “I suppose when you stop volunteering.”

“Reckon we better find Sam?” You suggested.

His hand left your shoulder and you resisted the urge to reach out and grab his hand. You had played this act for so long it was second nature, but Dean Winchester was the one weakness that could unravel it all, and you hated yourself for it.

Sam found you both before you had the chance to go looking for him. “Hey, you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” the both of you responded in unison. “You?” You added rubbing at the glued on facial hair on our jawline.

“Unscratched.” Sam boasted.

“I need a beer.” You commented.

“I’m with ya.” Dean added. “Same place as last night?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “But first I need to freshen up.” You mentioned as you all made your way out of the crypt.

“Always trying to impress the ladies Mike.” Sam joked.

“Yeah, it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I smell like a grave or the blood stains.” You remarked sarcastically. “I’ll meet up with you.”

“Don’t be too long, Dean thrives off the competition.” Sam said referring to the local ladies.

“I could take your ugly asses on double or nothing.” You challenged, cringing on the inside, comments like these being part of the reason you felt the need to disguise yourself.

“I’ll be rolling over in my grave the day that happens, shorty.” Dean bantered.

“If only you knew the possibilities when you’re at the same level.” You winked.

“Oh, I do know, but have since graduated from middle school, and let me tell you, it’s a whole new world up here, brother.” Dean joked.

“Ahh.” You waved him off hopping into your old beater. 

You let the Winchesters pull out first, giving them some distance. When you pulled out onto the drive you pulled the hat and wig off, letting your hair fall down. After shaking it out, you finally were able to itch a spot that had been bothering you for a half hour.

When you finally made it back to your hotel you started a hot shower. You looked in the mirror, it was crazy what makeup, a bit of fake facial hair, and practice could do. You grabbed a make up removal wipe and went to town. With a sigh you asked yourself if it was really worth it just to put it all back on again. You smelled the collar of your shirt and there was no way around it, you smelled like death.

Taking off your shirt, you carefully undid the wrap that compressed your chest. You stepped out of the baggy jeans and biker boots and hopped into the shower washing with axe. You really didn’t know if the axe helped keep up the appearance but you would never hear the end of it if Dean thought ‘Mike’ smelled like cashmere lavender.

Stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body you finally felt like you again. But there was no time to soak the feeling up, Mike had a beer waiting for him. You dried your face and immediately got to work. Maybe someday you could open up to the Winchesters you thought as you applied the makeup to your face. They were the closest thing you had to a family or friends or whatever they were and you had known them for a while now. But you threw away that train of thought, tonight was not the night for that.

After your face was completed, you found the wig again, itching that same spot on your head and considering ditching the boys tonight. You smelled it and realized you wouldn’t have time to clean it, but thought perhaps it would just give you a hint of muskiness. Back on it went along with the wrap, a fresh flannel, and cargo pants.

Taking one final look in the mirror to ensure the transformation was completed, you winked at yourself. “Here’s looking at you kid.” You said with your unaltered voice.

Before you hit the bar Sam and Dean were chatting over a beer.

“All I’m saying is Mike is a great guy. I think we owe it to him to offer the bunker as a resting place. You know as place to stay when cutting cross country, somewhere to do research. But not like full on moving in.” Sam explained.

“Like a hunters hotel?” Dean asked skeptically.

“If that’s what you want to call it sure. He’s saved our asses on more than one occasion. We can trust him.” Sam continued.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Dean agreed. “We’re close enough to Kansas, let’s have him stop by tomorrow.”

You strolled in the bar, trying to puff yourself to appear bulkier than your actual self. You nodded at the Winchesters but headed to the jukebox. ‘Thriller’ seemed appropriate given the nature of the hunt. You walked over and joined them at the high top.

“So what are we drinking tonight fellas?” You asked, back to Mike’s voice.

Dean signaled to the waiter for three more rounds. “For once success and not sorrow or regret.”

“I hope those are to share. How many has he had?” You asked Sam playfully concerned. “Ya’ll are given me an advantage tonight.” You scanned the crowd playing the act.

“We had to level the playing field with you being so late.” Sam teased.

“You know I can’t skip my nightly pedicure.” You joked back.

“By late he meant short.” Dean corrected Sam.

“Hey, that’s twice in one night now.” You told Dean. “Don’t want things getting too personal.”

The waitress dropped off three more beers before Dean could continue teasing you. As she left you turned your head around, really reading there chalked specials, but knew they would assume something else.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dean called to get your attention back to him. “Already beat you to it.” He gloated waving a napkin victoriously.

You waved your hand in the air as if wiping away a thought. “Alright, alright, let’s forget about this nonsense for a bit and just enjoy a celebratory drink.” You suggested raising your glass and taking a swig.

“Giving up so easy?” Sam asked you.

“Nah, just letting him have a freebee tonight, so when I crush his ego next time it will feel that much better” You made up trying not to sound depressed thinking about what Dean would be doing later tonight.

“Never gonna happen.” Dean argued.

“So, how have your cases been going? Come across anything weird lately?” Sam asked you thankfully changing the direction of the conversation.

“Weirds the job man. I mean, after the angels came into play, I think the next level up would be aliens.” You commented. “I was recently up in Montana hunting a wendigo, but god did I wish it was bigfoot.”

“Hell yes, that would be awesome.” Dean agreed. “Although, when he doesn’t wax,” He pointed at Sam. “Pretty much the same thing as a sasquatch.”

“Actually Sam,” You started. “A few weeks back, ran into something that called itself a Vodnik. You ever heard of it?”

Sam racked his memory. “Not that I can think of. Why?”

“Well, the thing was drowning people so I put the little bastard out of it’s misery. But I can’t help feel I am missing something.” You explained.

Sam used this as an opportunity. “You know, we have a pretty extensive library. You could come check it out.”

You became confused thinking the Winchesters were the ‘live on the road’ kind of type like you. You couldn’t imagine them with a dwelling, but you guessed it wasn’t that unusual for hunters to have a few safe houses around the country.

“We hang our hats up just a couple hour from here.” Dean explained.

“Well, look at you, all domesticated.” You teased.

“It’s more like a den for lions.” Dean argued trying to stay masculine.

“Yeah, right, you’ve got an apron and everything.” Sam teased.

You threw your head back chuckling silently. “Man I gotta see this.”

“Forget you asshats.” Dean pretended to be offended and headed off to the bar. Really he was just looking for an excuses to chat up the waitress.

You watched him walk away considering trying to cock block but knowing it would never work. So you spent some more time with Sam. Discussing some more details about the Vodnik case and playing a few rounds of gin rummy. You bit your cheek when you noticed Dean leave with the waitress and heard the start of the impala.

“Looks like I’m your ride back tonight,’ You offered. “I mean unless…” You looked around the room for someone Sam might be interested in.

“Yeah, that’d be great actually.” Sam said.

As you pulled up to their motel, Sam noticed the impala in the parking lot and a light on in their room.

“Great,” He rolled his eyes. “Looks like I’m sleeping in the car tonight.”

“With your feet hanging out the window?” You laughed trying to imagine how uncomfortable that must be for him. “I got a double open, if that sounds more accommodating.” Shit. You face palmed yourself mentally as the offer left your mouth before thinking.

“You sure? That would be great.” Sam said

You couldn’t take it back now. “Of course.”

The motel you had found was only a few minutes away, your heart racing trying to think of what was out and what needed to be hidden. Definitely a bra was out and the makeup bag.

“I just need a minute.” You said trying to mask the anxiety as much as possible.

“Trust me, I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” Sam said still following you in.

Okay. You thought quickly. If you could just grab the duffel and run to the bathroom, you should be able to explain everything else away. You purposefully screwed up the key card a couple of times just so you could run through it again.

When you finally unlocked it you tried to act cool, but went right for your duffel. Sam has a quick look around before sitting on the unused bed and started taking off his shoes. You let out a sigh of relief and headed for the bathroom closing and locking the door behind.

Fuck what have you done. You looked at yourself in the mirror. With as much glue and makeup hair spray (as you called it) you had on, you were unsure if the appearance could last through the night. If you set your alarm early enough, you could probably get away without him noticing if anything came undone.

You looked through your duffel. You’d have to keep the girls wrapped and you brought a hoodie which would help. You said a prayer of thankfulness upon finding baggy Adidas sweatpants compared to your usual cotton sleepwear. Now for feet, you looked down. A couple pairs over each other might do the trick to make them appear slightly bigger.

After packing up all the makeup and burying it as deep as it would go in your bag you gave yourself one final look over in the mirror. This is a sleepover from hell, you thought. But hey, if Amanda Bynes could do it, so could you.

You walked back out and Sam was surfing channels.

“It must kill you not to have your laptop.” You commented.

“Tell me about it.” Sam said standing up and stripping down to his boxers.

Even though you had no feelings for him, you couldn’t help to feel a blush start to creep up. He threw his stuff in the corner and noticed the bra hanging over the lounge chair.

“Dude?” He called you out.

“Trophy from Wednesday night.” You said with a smirk.

“I lose one Dean only to be replaced by another.” Sam laughed.

If he only knew you thought jokingly to yourself. That night you hardly slept a wink, too concerned if something were to fall off or makeup was to be smudged. Probably between the hours of 4 and 6, you were able to shut your eyes for longer than twenty minutes at a time. But by the time 6:30 rolled around, you were surfing the web on your phone before the alarm sounded. You caught the beep fairly quick, but Sam still stirred and you jolted to the bathroom. Other than some of the contour faded, things seemed to last pretty well. As you had taken a shower last night, you figured you could just touch up the makeup and threw on the flannel too as it was the only outfit still semi clean. 

Sam was still asleep when you came out. You packed up your things, threw the bag in the trunk, and walked down the street to a dinner. You had two cups of coffee at the counter and then order another cup for you and Sam along with some bacon and bagels to go.

When you got back Sam had woken up and showered. It seemed he was ending a phone call with Dean.

“Hey,” You said, voice a bit high. You cleared your throat to correct it. “Picked you up some stuff.”

“Thanks man.” Sam said opening the carton.

“Ah shit. I forgot you were the healthy one. Not sure they would have had any spinach egg white omelettes anyways.” You teased. “Everything seemed to be covered in grease.”

“Including the coffee.” Sam added after taking a sip. “So what if we ride up together, I can just show you the way.” 

“Oh if you just give me the address.” You started.

“We’re kinda off the grid.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, sure.” You gave in, it was good practice to keep up this demeanor for longer than usual anyways.

After a ways down the highway and a bit of small talk, Sam asked you, “So what got you into the business?” 

Your mind froze. It had been so long since you had thought of that day. It was demon who got his kicks off of tormenting you and your family just for the hell of it. You were the only survivor had the demon intended it or not.

“Revenge, as it is with most hunters I guess. It was a demon, killed my mother, father and brother… I’ve been hunting the son of a bitch ever since.” You kept it brief.

“Revenge is a slippery slope.” Sam said

“Easy for you to say, yellow eyes is dead and gone.” You said knowing most of their story.

“True,” Sam agreed.

After a moment of awkward silence, you plugged your phone into the cassette adapter and shuffled the songs trying to occupy your mind with something other than the past. ‘There She Goes Again’ first came on and you skipped trying to find something more fitting for Mike. The Goo Goo Dolls ‘Iris’ came up next and you laughed trying to play it off. After the third attempt of Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story’ you paused it and purposefully sought out the Beastie Boys ‘License to Ill’ album.

You were a bit confused when Sam’s directions led you up a dirt path in the woods and to what looked like to be an abandoned structure. Maybe they had squatted there once and turned it into their own, you thought. Upon pulling closer, you saw the impala.

“How’d Dean beat us here?” Sam thought out loud.

“Love this car, but can’t get her over 75 otherwise she overheats.” You explained.

“You’re never going to hear the end of that one.’’ Sam warned.

“Lost my bragging rights two days in a row.” You pretended to be defeated but smiled unfazed.

Sam lead you in through the front door. You paused immediately this being the last thing you expected. Your jaw hung open looking at the expansiveness, furnishings and details. Sam started down the stairs and your feet slowly followed.

“We call this the war room, and this is the library, pass there is the kitchen, bedrooms down that way.” Sam explained the layout to you.

Dean came out of the kitchen in his bathrobe and cups of coffee. “And we keep finding new rooms each day.” He bragged.

“Can I?” You asked pointing at the bookshelves.

Sam nodded giving you permission. You ran your fingers across the embroidered edges trying to find just the right one to pick off the shelf.

Dean whispered to Sam. “So we are charging him for this right?” He raised his eyebrows excited for the proposition.

“What? No.” Sam shot him down.

You turned around facing them, flipping through the pages of an ancient book. “Listen, there’s something I feel like I should tell you.” You started.


	2. Chapter 2

“Listen, there’s something I feel like I should tell you.” You started and paused, the next words not coming out of your mouth. “This place is sick. You bring all the babes down here?” You raved, keeping up the demeanor.

“Not quite, only a few close friends know about it. We keep it pretty private.” Sam stated.

“Ah, too bad, I could totally see a pole right here.” You showed them between the war room and the library, kicking yourself mentally for taking it too far.

Dean hit Sam’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not a bad idea.” He agreed with a chuckle.

“Respectfully so.” You cleared your throat. “So, uh, for the Vodnik, I can go through any of these books?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help you out.” Sam responded.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden.” You said.

“It’s okay, he gets off on it.” Dean rationalized.

“I’m sure there is something more important for you to be doing.” You started again.

“Other than looking for another case, not really.” Sam insisted.

“Well, while you two nerds continue your sleep over, I’m going to grab some grub.” Dean joked and left for the kitchen.

“So, you got a system in place here?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, some chronologically, others geographically.” Sam explained.

“This thing seemed to have an accent. East European.” You hypothesized.

“Okay. That gives me an idea of where we could start.” Sam concluded, grabbing some books off the shelves and handing them to you.

Not soon after you had started flipping through the pages, Dean came out with burgers and beer that no diner or bar could ever come close too.

“Oh my god,” You said with your mouth full. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

 

Dean soaked up the praise, but downplayed it instead of gloating. “Ah, it’s nothing, just ran over to Applebee’s.”

“Yeah right, this is amazing.” Had your mouth not been full of food, they might have noticed the change in your tone. However, you did notice and quieted again.

A few more hours passed and Dean pulled up Game of Thrones on his laptop.

“You know, if you didn’t play so much poker, you could probably afford a big screen for this place.” You teased, having several times wiped the floor with Dean’s deck. An unexpected advantage about living a lie you thought.

“Hey, don’t get to confident now. That’s my strategy. Boost your confidence so I can take it all away.” Dean countered.

“Mike, check this out.” Sam interrupted. You leaned over the table to get a better look. “This Czech myth is a small creature with human and frog-like features. It dwells in ponds or rivers and drowns anyone who comes to their territory. Unlike the Vodyanoy, the Vodnik can survive a few hours on land and even will help fisherman for a pinch of tobacco. Salt water is said to be poisonous.” Sam roughly translated.

“Well, I didn’t use any salt water. But I did tie it up in a cabin for a while. Perhaps being out of water too long did it in?” You thought out loud.

“Could be.” Sam looked up at you and paused.

Your eyes widened; concerned your wig was crooked or facial hair was peeling, but Sam just stared into your eyes.

You slid back down into your chair. “Does it say anything else?” You coughed, trying to distract him as you felt your fake features hoping all was still in its place.

“Umm, yeah. It captures the souls of the drowned and… stores them in it’s underwater liar…. In… porcelain cups.’ Sam translated and grabbed the computer from Dean to make sure his interpretation was correct.

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Looks like I am going for a dive.”

“Nah, how bad could an eternal tea party be?” Dean joked.

“Yeah, cups are what you’re looking for.” Sam confirmed having translated it again.

“Alrighty then.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. “Thanks for everything, I’m sure we’ll run into each other soon.”

Sam got up confused. “You’re leaving now? You can stay and rest before you head out.” He offered.

“I’ll be back, but I wouldn’t be able to rest knowing I have unfinished business.” You explained.

Sam gave you a firm shoulder hug, “Well, you are welcome any time. I mean it.” 

“And when I finally find somewhere to settle down like you old men, I’ll invite you over for a barbecue or something.” You envisioned.

Dean came up for a bro hug and patted you on the back. You were concerned you let your hand linger too long on the back of his shoulder. “Seriously, anytime. But we are sending you a bill.” He teased.

“Later.” You ended heading up the stairs.

Finally, out of sight from their bunker, your ripped off the wig and facial hair convinced it had been a longest period of time you had gone in character. Driving back into the town, you decided to go as yourself not wanting for locals to recognize you as you had made your rounds only a few weeks ago. Not to mention the disguise would not hold well underwater. You stopped at a bigger city before you hit the town in order to find a scuba suit, renting it out would cost all your poker winnings but you really couldn’t think of a better solution.

You lied to a group of fisherman about a lost wedding ring and in return they warned you about drownings and disappearances. You could hardly resist letting them know the issue had been taken care of but thanked them for the warning, and convinced them you were an experienced driver which was another lie. After hours of searching and going through a few oxygen tanks, you came across an old cabinet. You used your hunting knife to pry it open and bust the lock. Sure enough, inside were porcelain cups with lids on top. You lifted up the lid on one and out came a bubble containing a blue orb that floated towards the surface. You recalled the number of drownings you had traced and counted a few extra containers. There must have been unreported cases. You released all of them and the last few cups were empty. Satisfied, you returned to the surface and checked into a local motel to recuperate.

For a few hours, you allowed yourself to be pampered. You treated your hair, used perfume, shaved your legs, and even painted your toenails. You thought about going out for a drink, but decided not to on account of not wanting to deal with men like Dean. You sighed at the thought of him. How did a womanizing ass occupy all your thoughts and desires? Perhaps the thought of having the unattainable or wanting him to realize he was searching for something that only you could satisfy. Your thoughts turned darker, perhaps it was being with someone so experienced. Your thoughts wandered to imagining his lips pressed firmly against yours, his calloused hands holding your waist and guiding your hips.

You felt a heat start to rise up in you and quickly turned on the tv, trying to break the cycle of your thoughts. You hadn’t been intimate since before the night the demon… Well, that thought surely broke your desire. Flipping through the stations you paused briefly on The Big Bang Theroy but continued flipping once the commercial came on. You switched past a news channel, but then immediately backed up finding it again. The news anchor described a murder in which the victim was decapitated and body was mutilated. The police were not releasing any details but had a line open for tips.

The town was only two hours from here. You thought it might possibly be a hunter taking care of a vampire problem but you wanted more information. You pulled out your laptop to look further into the police system. Sam had taught you some basic hacking skills and with smaller towns you usually could find a way into their database. You were able to pull up the case file and were shocked by what you saw. A lot of information had been left out of the news clip. Yes, the victim had been decapitated but by simply saying mutilation they left out a good chunk of the details. The head of some type of bird of prey had been sewn? onto the neck of the victim. Had you not been used to gore you would have been sick. Well, there ain’t no rest for the wicked, you thought knowing you would be heading there first thing in the morning.

Another day came and back as Mike you were. Yes, the process was long and somewhat annoying but it was much easier to get information, be treated seriously, and not looked down upon (in a figurative sense) in his skin. The only problem that came was you never fully looked right in a men’s dress suit. If you wanted it tight and professional it would not hide your figure. Trying to go with a baggy suit just made you look like a child playing dress up in their father’s sports jacket. So you just usually went in casual wear which could make playing FBI difficult but it didn’t deter you.

When the coroner asked about it you responded. “New policy, dress for your day, not that it’s any of your business but I don’t need a cadaver soiling my Brooks Brothers.” You said with a confidence that wouldn’t be questioned.

The coroner pulled out the victim’s body. He had already removed the bird’s head but kept it in the same compartment.

“No ID?” You asked.

“Not yet,” The coroner confirmed. “Police are cross-checking missing persons report.”

“And no head? Human head, that is.” You continued to question.

“Nothing. I have been assured the crime scene and outlying perimeters have been thoroughly swept.”

“Other than the mutilation, anything stand out as weird?” You asked.

“Yes, the time of death and decapitation don’t add up, I reran my tests several times.” He said confused.

“What are you saying?” You inquired uneasily.

“The body was technically still alive while the bird’s head was being sewn on.” He reported.

The doors opened and a familiar voice sounded Mike’s go to fake identity. “Agent Dallas.” You looked up seeing Dean enter the room and Sam following behind both in their suits. “Violating the dress code again I see.”

“Dry up.” You responded again in the confidence you earlier presented. “I outrank the both of you combined. Glad to see you finally decided to show up.” It had been a similar routine you had conjured whenever you ran into each other on a case unexpectedly.

“Our flight was delayed.” Sam explained. “Can you give us a moment?” Sam directed at the coroner.

“I’ll catch them up to speed.” You assured him as he left the room. “So what? You two just can’t get enough of me huh?” You teased.

“Don’t get so full of yourself Mike, just making sure you aren’t slacking on the job.” Dean playfully bantered back.

You coughed away a blush, your thoughts from last night resurfacing. You reminded yourself, this was just the way dudes talked to each other. This was not flirting or tension in Dean’s eyes. Sam started inspecting the report and body.

“So what are you thinking, witchcraft? Occult?” You asked Sam.

“It seems… almost.. Egyptian.” Sam hesitantly said. “Ancient Egyptian deities were hybrids of different animals, mainly human bodies with animal heads.”

“We had a run in with one awhile back.” Dean soberly remarked remembering their case with Osiris.

“Of course you did.” You rolled your eyes, almost annoyed they have literally hunted practically every supernatural thing in the book.

“But this doesn’t seem to be a god itself, it’s almost as if someone is trying to create one.” Sam theorized, unsure of himself.

“Back to my theory of cult or witchcraft.” You interjected.

“I still think we should get a ram’s horn just in case.” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, it couldn’t hurt.” Sam agreed.

“On it.” Dean called dibs.

“I’ll look into some texts, see what deity this could be, it may give us some more clues on who or what we are dealing with.” Sam purposed.

“And I’ll sweep over the crime scene. Maybe something was missed.” You decided.

“Alright, meet back up for lunch?” Dean asked.

“Plan.” You decided and headed off.

The body had been discovered in an abandoned storage facility, but apparently it was a place for local junkies to hang out. It was placed next to a small river and you really hoped you wouldn’t have to go diving again to look for the missing head. The gates of the property had been marked with police tape but it was easy to sneak around it. The pavement was overgrown with grass and weeds. Most of the units were unlocked and open, some containing boxes of junk. You went to the office in the far corner where the body was actually found. It was locked and sealed with police tape. Luckily, you had brought cutters expecting this.

Inside, it was dark and musky from years of sitting. Police had cleared what they thought had been evidence and dusted for prints. You doubted if anything would come of it. The papers that had been left behind appeared only to be old bills, budget records, and policy updates.

You headed to the manager’s private office. The old wooden desk was where the body was found, you recognized the scene from the pictures online. There was dried blood, feathers and candle wax. Trying to find something that was missed, you looked through drawers but they had been cleared out. However, down on the base of the desk, it looked as if though someone had carved in hieroglyphs with a pocket knife. As you did not see these in the police report, you snapped a couple of pictures and forwarded them onto Sam. You also scrapped off a substance from one of the shelves into a plastic bag. It might be possible to send it to the county forensics department, but it was highly unlikely they would get back to you before you and the scooby gang had the problem taken care of.

You completed your sweep of the office and still came up headless. You figured you would check the remainder of the storage units and any dumpster that may still be lying around. Walking through the maze of units, you kept your hand close to your gun ready to draw at any moment needed having the suspicious feeling you were being watched. As you turned a corner, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you almost literally ran into Dean.

“Jesus man, give a guy a heads up.” You vented, catching your breath making sure your low tone was correct.

“Losing your touch? You would have caught me snooping around five minutes ago if you were on your game.” Dean poked fun at you.

“And what about you, Ram’s horn?” You asked skeptically.

“Not my first walk through a synagogue.” Dean gloated. “Thought you might need a hand?”

You caught Dean up to speed on what you had and had not found.

“There was a stuck locker around that block,” Dean pointed. “With your help we could pry it open.” He thought.

And he was right, with a hammer you were able to pry a crowbar underneath the door and get some leverage as Dean forced it up. After the dust settled, Dean took out a small flashlight to get a better look inside. Metal shelves were lined with jars containing fluids, unknown substances, organs, and animal parts.

“How did they miss this?” Dean asked confused referring to the police.

He stepped into the unit and tripped some unseen trap, you grabbed him quickly upon hearing the click and pulled him back out before a canvas fell from the ceiling revealing several snakes and a human skull. You hid in Dean’s chest from the fright.

He chuckled nervously. “Don’t like snakes, Indy?”

You realized your mistake and regained your composure brushing your clothes as if to unwrinkle them. “You think that’s our vic?” You asked nodding in the direction of the skull.

“I’d say it’s a high probability.” Dean tested the waters by stepping closer.

A cobra out of the bunch noticed Dean’s advance and raised itself as it hissed and widened its hood, fixated on him.

“Dean,” You whispered. “Step back slowly.” You instructed as you slowly took off your outer jacket.

Dean listened as you took your jacket reaching it as far away from you as you possibly could. You shook the jacket up and down encouraging the cobra to fixate on it instead of Dean.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean whispered.

“I saw it on the crocodile hunter once.” You explained causing Dean to roll his eyes.

You continued shaking as the cobra was now spitting and striking at it. With it completely distracted you threw it as far as you could into the unit and the cobra chased after it. You motioned for Dean to slowly start backing up. Once a safe distance away you gathered your thoughts.

“I honestly can’t believe that worked.” You confessed breathless to Dean.

“You and me both.” He agreed. “Well gives us a place to go next, pet stores, the zoo.” He started.

“Yeah, no way that thing was from around here.” You concurred.

Dean felt comfortable enough to turn his back to the unit, where as you were still watching it as some of the snakes began to slither out. “And neither is that guy.” Dean responded. You turned around to see what appeared to be a man in an Egyptian robe and wearing a blue mask that sported a long snout and erect ears of some unidentifiable creature. “Unless I forgot it was Halloween again.” He said seriously.

“Always, with the jokes.” You whispered quietly to him as the figure watched you unmoving. “You don’t happen to have that horn on you?”

“Nah.” Dean admitted.

“Alright, plan B it is.” You said lifting your gun and firing in its direction.

It calmly walked out of sight around the corner of the unit block. The both of you ran after it but came to an empty row of blocks. Dean signaled for you to start clearing the open units and to meet at the end as he headed the other direction. Your heart raced as it always did with a chase. You moved quickly through the units.

You stopped at one as the sun shone partially through it, highlighting the body of a falcon. The blood looked fresh, causing you to wonder if there was another victim here. Out of the corner the form took shape and struck you between the ribs with it’s blade. You were caught off guard; the pain not settling in yet, just the pressure.

“Mike!” Dean yelled, running to you.

The creature took notice of Dean and withdrew the blade, which is when the pain hit. You keeled over as Dean started shooting at the figure. It seemed to not notice raising the knife to strike a blow to the head. But one of Dean’s bullets finally found its mark. The beast looked down at it’s chest and vanished around the metal. The bullet drop to the floor with a clink.

You tried your best to stifle the scream coming up but couldn’t contain the pain. You sounded a low cry.

“Mike?” Dean asked trying to assess the situation.

You furrowed your brow and grunted, trying to find the focus to speak without ruining your disguise.

“Come on buddy, we got to get you outta here and patched up.” Dean instructed.

You pulled your hand away from the wound and saw it was covered in blood, a lot of blood. You put your hand back over it trying not to panic. “Ah fuck…” You hissed. “I’m… good, had worse.” You stuttered.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged. He wrapped his arm around your waist trying to hoist you up. You used your good arm to grab onto his shoulder to help him pull you up. “I’m not leaving you out here alone, just have to make it to the impala and I’ll patch you up.”

“Seriously, I’m okay….” You gasped for another breath. “I can do my own patch work.” Your brow started to sweat as the pain increased from the movements. He slowly helped you walk down the rows.

“Now’s not the time to be the brave soldier, Mike.” Dean ordered.

You started to panic with each step, and not just from the pain. If Dean got anywhere near this wound, there would be a least two things he would be bound to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

You started to panic with each step, and not just from the pain. If Dean got anywhere near this wound, there would be a least two things he would be bound to notice.

Dean leaned your back against the hood of the Impala while he went to dig through the truck looking for first aid supplies. You kept a hand pressed on the wound, suspecting the wrap you used to conceal your figure was helping to keep the injury contained and compressed.

“Dean, Seriously.” You gasped out, your act failing with each passing minute. “You should update Sam.”

“That can wait.” Dean replied frazzled, unable to locate the first aid supplies. In the meantime he brought you an old T-Shirt you could use to sop up some of the blood. “You afraid I’ll see you cry or something?” Dean questioned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Fuck off.” You clenched your jaw; annoyed with his joke, being much more concerned about what he would actually see. You rolled your eyes knowing ‘Mike’ would have a comeback. “Just afraid you’ll faint from the gore, Winchester.” You paused, trying to get the pain under control. “Then I’ll have to save both our asses.”

You heard Dean softly chuckle followed by the slam of the trunk. Your eyes widened seeing Dean had returned with a bottle of vodka, a fishing hook, and fishing line.

“Quit stalling and suck it up.” Dean joked nervously as he started to sterilize the hook with his lighter.

Your free hand gently scratched the false stubble on your jaw as to tried to think of a distraction. There was no way you could possibly outrun him to your car.

“From what I saw, there is possibly another victim out there. You and Sam need to focus on that. I can patch myself up.” You said eagerly trying to convince him. His earnestly green eyes searched yours. “I’ve had worse.” You lied.

“I can’t just leave you like this…. We’ll make it quick.” Dean explained, torn between the situations.

“I’ll be fine.” You gave one last shot to convince him. “Call if I need to…” When Dean didn’t argue back you asked, “Just help me to my car, alright?”

Dean sighed, still unsure of leaving you alone but gave into your demands, and helped support you walking over to the car. After helping you in, he left the supplies on your passenger seat.

“If I don’t hear from you in a half hour…” He warned.

“I’ll be dead in a ditch,” You sarcastically remarked, realizing too late you were not helping your case. “Don’t even worry about it.” You tried to assure.

“Be safe.” Dean patted the hood of your car before shutting you in.

You watched to ensure he’d make it safely back to his Impala, slightly concerned that thing might pop up again. Once you were satisfied, you grunted from the effort it took to put your car in gear. Dean followed you down the road. You fretted that he might have changed his mind and was following you to the motel. But a few minutes later, you sighed in relief as he turned left at an intersection.

Getting out of the car and into the hotel room had been harder than you anticipated. You had your own supplies, but grabbed the bottle of vodka to help sterilize the wound and calm your nerves. Any movement had become excruciating by this point. You slowly sat down on the bed. You used your good side to help maneuver your jacket and flannel off. After undoing the wrap, you realized that you were still profusely bleeding. Using the wrap, you applied more pressure which helped to some extent. The vodka you knew would help cleanse the wound and kill any infection, but god did it sting. You tried to hiss away the pain. Knowing what would come next, you took a large gulp of the vodka to help lessen any hesitation. You grabbed a leather belt and put it between your teeth for something to bit down on as you went to work. For the most part you were able to contain the screams. Thankfully you didn’t pass out until after you were finished.

The fog of black unconsciousness abruptly ended with a burst with light as you woke to hear pounding on your door.

“Mike!” Sam yelled over the pounding.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, still half naked on the bed.

“We’re coming in.” Dean warned.

You sat up hissing, still in a great deal of pain, but it seemed the bleeding had stopped. It took you a minute to find Mike’s voice. “Would you wait one goddamn minute!” You yelled after you were able to concentrate.

You heard one of the boys whisper, “Thank god.”

As quickly as your injury allowed, you wrapped yourself back up, threw on a fresh flannel and cleaned up what evidence of your disguise you could. A quick look in the mirror and you decided everything was on straight enough that you could keep up your appearance. You unchained the door and opened it to those two fucking models waiting outside.

“Jesus, you look like death.” Sam blurted out.

It must be bad if Sam was being that honest. “Thanks Sam.” You rolled your eyes and went to sit back down on the bed.

“So, what happened to a half hour?” Dean questioned as he leaned against the hotel’s desk. Sam sat on the unsoiled bed and opened his laptop.

“Just needed a quick nap is all.” You responded sarcastically. “Let’s hope you had a more productive afternoon.”

Dean shook his head. “We went back to scout out the place, everything was gone. Vanished.”

“So no luck with locating a second vic?” You questioned.

“Stopped by the sheriff’s, too. No recent missing person reports.” Dean confirmed.

“But, based on Dean’s description, I think we know who we are dealing with.” Sam turn his laptop around to show you. “Anubis, god of mummification and the afterlife…. But I’m not sure about the other … there are several gods associated with falcon heads.” Sam explained.

You skeptically furrowed your brow as you examined the picture. “I guess it was sort of canine, but I don’t know… it wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

“Well they did the best with what they had. None of those painters named after the ninja turtles back in the pyramid days to help with their wall paintings.” Dean rationalized.

Sam stuttered, stopping himself from correcting Dean. “Unbelievable.” Was all he managed to mutter. He started going through pictures of hieroglyphics and Egyptian art with you. “Anything look familiar?”

“Wait, go back.” You instructed Sam. “Yeah, I’d say that’s more like what we saw.”

“Just cause you got a closer look.” Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed his description was wrong.

“Anything for the team.” You bantered back.

Sam clicked on the pictures link and quickly read the description. “Set… He has quite the rap sheet.” Sam briefly stated before he continued to read.

“Hey Granger, you going to fill the rest of us in?” Dean asked impatiently after Sam was silent for a few minutes. You chuckled at the fact Dean knew enough about Harry Potter to throw out a reference.

Sam snapped back to reality. “Umm.. Right. He has numerous descriptions but is most associated with deserts, storms, and chaos.”

“Sounds like a peach.” You remarked sarcastically.

“This might actually limit the other deity as well.” Sam added while further reading to get the details straight. “He is said to be the protector of Ra and also enemies with Horus.” Both you and Dean looked at him confused. “Both have the head of a falcon.” Sam clarified.

“Maybe the hieroglyphs will clue us in on who.” You suggested as Dean wandered to the bed to get a better look at the laptop.

“I did send the pictures to my old Egyptology professor but haven’t heard anything back.” Sam explained.

“My bet is on this bird brain.” Dean pointed at one of the pictures.

“Ra? Why do you say that?” Sam asked.

“That cobra on his head. We had a run in with one at the storage unit. I’d say this… Set… is getting this guy’s party clothes ready for when he is brought back.” Dean suggested, still developing his theory.

“So what you are saying is you think Set is attempting to resurrect Ra?” Sam questioned again.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Old buddies, together again, wreaking havoc just like the good old days.” Dean expanded, trying to convince Sam of the god’s motive.

Sam looked at you to see if you were buying it. You shrugged your shoulders agreeing with Dean. It was a huge assumption but the best theory you had at this point.

“Either way, let’s find and gank this son of a bitch before he has a chance to go through with his plan.” Dean said getting up.

You winced and held your stitches as you got up. “Split up or one car?” You asked hoping to nail down a plan.

Sam helped you up. “Mike, you sure you’re good? No pressure if you need to sit this one out.”

“Nah, I’ll be good.” You waved him off.

“You sure? If things got heavy, you wouldn’t want to pop a stitch.” Sam argued for your wellbeing.

You thought about it and hated to admit it, but he was right. You could end up right in this situation again. 

“Or we could just call in Cas.” Dean suggested snapping you from your thoughts. 

“What? No!” You protested. But it was too late, the angel you had heard so much about was already in the room behind Dean. ‘Oh god. Please don’t tell them. Please don’t.’ You silently prayed to him, assuming he would be able to see the real you.

Cas waltzed over to you annoyed. “You know Dean, I am not just a blue genie in a lamp you can make a wish on anytime you need help.”

“Hey, look at that, finally getting pop culture references.” Dean joked excitedly.

“I have no idea what you are referring to.” Cas uttered in his monotone voice.

His eyes were so vibrantly blue that the only possible explanation was that his grace contributed to their color. His gaze was so intense you wondered if he was reading your thoughts as you silently continued to plea.

“Michael.” He addressed you. “May I?”

All you managed was to nod your head giving him permission. He placed his palm on your wound. After a quick flash of hot energy, you no longer felt pain. Without thinking, you went to lift your shirt up to inspect the wound, but Cas’ hand came down to stop you.

“Thank you.” You quietly muttered, not just because he had healed you.

“Well, if you no longer require my assistance…” Cas finally broke your gaze before directing the conversation back to Dean.

“Actually, do you know a thing or two about ancient Egypt?” Dean asked.

Cas rolled his eyes before vanishing and quickly reappearing. “You’re on the right track. Set is no longer on this realm but I assume he will reappear where you found him earlier based on electrical patterns in the surrounding area. Now, I really must be going.” He ended frustrated, before disappearing again, this time not returning.

“Is he always like that?” You asked.

“Nah, just got his panties in a bunch. He secretly likes it.” Dean waved off. “You know how I know? Cause that wasn’t even a prayer. You just say his name and he’ll show up these days.”

“Well, then you should have suggested that from the beginning, ya bastard.” You joked trying to turn the situation light again. “Our hunts are going to go a lot differently now that I know you have a literal angel on your shoulder.” You continued on your way out the door and towards the impala. “Hey, he’s not for rent is he?” You asked jumping into the back seat.

“I guess you could try praying to him… but uhh.. He shares a more profound bond with Dean.” Sam teased Dean with some unknown inside joke. “I’m not sure how successful you’d be.” 

“Shut up.” Dean ordered Sam.

“It’s true,” Sam continued talking to you. “Dean sneezes and the guy is there saying ‘bless you’ with a tissue.”

You chuckled as Sam and Dean bantered back and forth. After a quick stop for dinner the three of you headed back down to the storage facility. It had turned to dusk by the time you arrived. The three of you did a quick sweep through the units but came up empty handed. But based of off Cas’ early remarks you were determined to stay in the area. Dean parked on the outskirts so you could continue to stake out the area. Dean would periodically scan the area with a pair of binoculars while Sam and you debated possible theories of what Cas had meant by realms.

Eventually, you decided to take shifts so two of you could get some shut eye while the other kept watch. You set your alarm for 3 AM knowing Dean wouldn’t wake you to take over. It took you a few minutes to snap into reality. You grabbed an energy drink from your pack and cracked it open, the sound and smell revitalizing your senses before even taking a sip.

“Still nothing?” You asked Dean who was still up and scanning the facility.

“Not yet.” Dean drowsily responded. “Maybe Cas didn’t know what he was talking about.”

You huffed and loaded your gun before tucking it away in your pants. “I’m going for another sweep, if I’m not back in 15…” You told Dean, leaving it open ended before hopping out of the Impala.

You heard Dean’s door creak open. “Like hell you’re going alone.”

You scoffed but didn’t argue. “You think Rapunzel will be safe?” You asked looking back at Sam who was still sawing logs.

Dean looked back as well. “Yeah, better let him get his beauty rest.” Dean packed a gun as well.

“Alright, you take the east half, I’ll scout out the west.” You instructed.

“We’re not splitting up.” Dean demanded.

You gritted your teeth but gave in. You started sweeping the facility row by row. The only evidence that remained was the carved desk in the office. The lockers were empty just like before. You and Dean were on the third to last row when a circular blue fire swept through the premise. Dean raised his arm to shield you but as the fire passed over you both remained unharmed. The previously cloudy sky was now crystal clear with the Orion constellation seeming to shine brighter than you had ever noticed. The crickets no longer were chirping, leaving the night in an eerie silence.

The snap of a twig caused both you and Dean to immediately to aim your guns in the sound’s direction.

“Hey, woah, woah.” Sam whispered stepping out of the shadow. “It’s just me.”

“Sleepy beauty finally awakes.” Dean teased putting away his gun. You kept your gun up uneasy.

“Thought you might be needing this.” Sam ignored the jest and produced the ram’s horn. “You guys saw it, right?” Sam asked regarding the fire.

You nodded. “Let’s check out the locker again, see if anything reappeared.”

As you started to head down the main aisle Dean stopped you. “Wait, look.” He pointed to the main office which seemed to be illuminated with a dim, flickering light.

“Okay, new plan, we start there.” You redirected.

“Three against one, it shouldn’t be too bad.” Sam agreed.

As you made your way across you stayed close against the lockers hoping to conceal any movement or shadows. About 20 feet away, you came to a dead halt and motioned for the boys to stop. The ground appeared to be moving, no, slithering.

“Shit!” You quietly cursed.

“Awesome.” Dean stated seeing that from here to the office, the ground was crawling with snakes, hundreds of them.

You both looked at Sam for an idea. Sam, it seemed was at loss. You turned back around clueless. You may have learned how to survive a one on one encounter but taking on hundreds at once was another story. You grabbed your phone and YouTube snake charming music always assuming it was full of crap, but if ancient Egyptian gods were real, perhaps there was something too it. Sam grabbed you by the back of the shirt and yanked you into a side row before you got the chance to hit play.

“Okay, snakes hate strong smells.” Sam started working a plan together.

You and Dean waited for him to continue. “And?” You asked impatiently.

“Well, we are surrounded by storage lockers… there has to be mothballs in some of them… maybe we can use them to clear a path to the office.”

You sighed. It was a terrible plan but it was the best you had. That’s how this case seemed to be going though. Knowing Set was most likely occupied in the office, you decided to split up to cover ground faster. The mothballs were surprisingly plentiful and easy to find. You found an old bag and used it to hold what you collected. On your way back, you passed the locker that you and Dean had found the first time through. The skull was still at the center of it. You couldn’t help but take a peek inside thinking there may be something to help the situation.

The trap had been reset so you carefully stepped over the tripwire. You started inspecting the jars. One with a yellow powder caught your eye. You opened it and the smell alone confirmed your suspicion, sulfur. You put the jar in the sack believing it could come in use. Upon further inspecting the area, a shimmer caught your eye. Getting a closer look you found a gold coin with the symbol of a beetle. Picking it up, you quickly realized your mistake. Another click sounded, making you aware of the trap you had just triggered. You immediately dropped the coin as large beetles started crawling out of the walls toward you.

“Shit!” You cursed again as you ran out of the locker, clumsily hitting the tripwire which shot arrows, thankfully missing their mark.

As you ran you looked behind you, you were gaining distance but you could see the forms still following after you. You ran down the main aisle to see Sam. “We gotta do this now.” You commanded with urgency.

Sam didn’t wait to ask why and threw some mothballs ahead of him. The snakes did move away but not a distance you would be comfortable with. You heard the sound of the beetles quickly approach and stepped into the sea of snakes. Some hissed and reared back as if to strike. You quickly unscrewed the jar of sulfur and scattered a handful down. The retreated further but the beetles still advanced not seeming to notice. Suddenly, you saw Dean out of the corner of your eye, running towards you and Sam. He positioned himself between you and the wave of bugs readying some type of contraption. He laughed when it finally snapped together and he pulled the trigger sending a stream of fire completely destroying everything it touched.

“Why am I not surprised?” You said with a breath of relief.

Dean let off the trigger when he was finally satisfied. “Why settle for small party tricks, when you have a staff of Moses?” He grinned at the flame thrower.

“Well then, would you be so kind as to part the rest of the sea?” You asked directing him towards the rest of the snakes.

“I’d thought you’d never ask.” Dean responded joyfully pulling the trigger once again.

Once Dean had cleared a path, Sam reached for the office door but Set had appeared outside in a blue flame before he had the chance to open it.

A voice like thunder manifested in your mind. “Mortal fools, you dare take on a god?”

“We’ve dealt with worse scum before.” Sam snarked, they must have heard it too.

“Then you shall die.” Set sounded in your mind again and produced out of thin air a spear and a long curved khopesh, it’s blade gleaming.

Dean unleashed the flame thrower spewing fire in Set’s direction but he disappeared.

“Always bring a knife to a fight.” You mumbled reaching down to your calf unstrapping the bowie you kept there.

Set appeared behind you. You unstrapped the bowie fast enough to immediately block his swing of the khopesh. As the two of you fought for the force of the meeting knives, Set reared his spear back to strike. But you were faster, reaching for your gun and pulling the trigger. You hit his abdomen but other than taking a few steps back, he looked unphased. Sam ran over with the ram’s horn while you came down on him with your knife as to distract him from Sam, but he vanished again.

He reappeared quite a distance behind Dean. He raised the spear and threw it at Dean which by some miracle he was able to dodge. But Set was running towards him as soon as the spear left his hand. He went to strike Dean with the khopesh but Dean stopped him with both hands grabbing at Set’s wrist. Set used the free arm to elbow Dean in the head rendering him unconscious. You shot at him again. After three bullets made their mark he disappeared yet again.

“Dean!” Sam yelled and made his way over to his brother.

You looked around for Set, reloading your gun. You felt a gush of wind behind you and turned around. Set had rematerialized in the mass of snakes Dean didn’t take the time to clear. He just stood there, leaving you unsure if he was resting or simply waiting for your move.

You took a deep breath and reached for the jar of sulfur that was still in the sack around your shoulder. You threw it right before his feet shattering the jar and causing the snakes to scatter. He remained unmoving as you ran towards him.

He raised the khopesh to strike you but as Dean had, you stopped it from coming down by holding his wrist. You used your free arm to drive the bowie into his ribs as he had done to you. He dropped the khopesh and grabbed your throat. He pulled out the bowie knife and discarded it on the ground as he used the hand around your throat to raise you in the air. You used you strength to claw at his hand, struggling for breath.

His voice was in your mind again. “I can see through your mask, mortal… when our kind ruled the lands you would have given anything, even your life, to worship me in my temple.” You continued to claw at him, trying to get a breath of air. “Serve me now, priestess, and I will give what you seek most.” Your mind flashed to the image of the demon. “Or your deepest secret will be revealed before you die.” His free hand grabbed the top of your wig.

Your mind bounced back and forth, wanting nothing more than to avenge your family but you feared what serving him would cost. His eyes were focused on you as if he was reading your thoughts. Your mind flashed again to day your family was murdered in front of your eyes. You could feels the demon’s body pressed against you, feel his hot breath on your cheek and the smell of sulfur.

“Please, stop.” You softly cried knowing Set was controlling your thoughts.

“What’s your answer?” He asked in your mind.

When you remained silent his hand tightened around you. Your eyes started to go heavy and flutter shut from the lack of oxygen. All of a sudden, a sharp horn appeared through his chest - stopping just before it reached you. Set dropped you, shifting his focus to the wound. He howled and screeched; causing you to cover your ears and scream as well. The pressure in the atmosphere built around him and he burst into blue dust. You closed your eyes and stopped screaming as his horrid sound had ceased.

When you finally were brave enough to open your eyes, you saw Sam across from you pulling his hands away from his ears as well. While Set was focused on you, Sam must have come from behind and pierced him with the ram’s horn. You caught your breath and remembered the grip on your wig. You reached up to feel if it was still there. Thankfully it was, just a little loose.

Dean was recovering as well. Sam went into the office and found the second victim bound to the desk still alive and his head fully attached. Sam gave the victim his jacket and the three of you waited until the police arrived to pick him up. Dean explained the suspect had already been picked up and was being shipped to the nearest FBI headquarters. When the sheriff asked about the victims strange ramblings, you explained it away as delusions from the trauma and that he should recover with a few sessions of counseling.

It was dawn by the time the boys had returned you to the motel.

“Drinks at 5?” Dean asked, confirming if you were in for the tradition you shared after every hunt.

“You betcha.” You said before they left you.

Before sleeping the day away, you walked to the nearest gas station and pick up a pack of cigarettes, hoping to take the edge off. You slept most of the day, but woke in a sweat from nightmares of memories you tried so hard to erase.

You grabbed another cigarette and looked in the mirror. You had a few more hours before meeting up with the boys. You put the cigarette out swearing it was the last one as you did not want to pick up the habit again. Combing through your hair, your mind bounced back and forth. Something about this case got to you. There were so many slip ups and too many times you almost lost control of the act. If Sam and Dean were going to learn your secret, you needed to be the one to tell them - and not because of a forced situation.

You set the comb down on the sinks ledge, biting your cheek as you toyed with the idea. Tonight, you decided. No taking any more risks or chances. Tonight you were going to show them who you really were.


	4. Chapter 4

You took one last huff of the cigarette before cursing at yourself and running it under the water so that it would be out for good. You removed the wig and peeled off the false stubble before going to run the shower. Unbuttoning your shirt revealed the wrap that was still heavily stained with blood. But underneath, there was only skin. There was no scar, even the fishing line was gone. You rubbed your hand over it still amazed.

You stepped in the shower taking the time to run through possible scenarios of how the evening might play out. You and Dean ending up in the same bed was a highly unlikely outcome but that didn’t keep you from thinking about it. After showering and wrapping a towel around yourself, you wiped the steam from the mirror.

“No turning back.” You commanded yourself voice unaltered as grabbed the makeup bag. “Just something natural, something to highlight the features…” You nervously said outloud.

You gazed in the mirror looking for a place to start. You had let your eyebrows go for quite sometime and really didn’t want to introduce yourself with the caterpillar look. A few unkempt mustache hairs here and there. With watery eyes and stinging skin, you were finally done with the tweezers. Despite yearning to pitch them into the trashcan, you forced yourself to put them in the makeup bag as you would most likely need them for future use.

You took out the concealer - taking a second to remember what it’s intended purpose was. A bit of powder. What you really took your time to focus on was your eyes, you wanted them to pop. You accented them with a palette of natural colors but chose black eyeliner and heavy mascara. A little bit of gloss too, to make your lips shine. You left your hair simple, dried with just a bit of styling product to keep it in place.

Now to the most difficult part, what the fuck were you going to wear? If you had more time, you would go shopping, but as usual, you were already running late. So you looked through your pack. You literally only had yoga pants, a camisole, a gray t-shirt, and skinny jeans. Well, that made the decision fairly easy. Skinny jeans and the gray shirt it was. If you weren’t wearing the undershirt, the vneck of the gray tshirt made the girls look quite appetizing and part of you wanted to see Dean drool, only if for a second before he realized who you were. You tossed the camisole aside deciding to let them breathe.

You looked one final time in the mirror. “I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get.” You slid into your only pair of sandals before leaving the room and disguise behind.

On the way over to the bar, you distracted yourself by scanning through the radio stations. But when you pulled into the bar’s parking lot your chest tightened and your breath was caught in your throat. You parked next to the empty Impala, which made your beater look like a hunk of junk. Before walking to the entrance you rubbed the hood of the Impala, its glossy exterior shining in the neon lights. She wouldn’t judge you, you thought. “Wish me luck.”

—-

Sam and Dean were sitting at a high top finishing their second beer. Dean had demolished a pile of wings. Sam looked at his watch anxiously.

“Hey, haven’t you learned by now, he’ll show up by the third round.” Dean reassured Sam.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Sam agreed taking another sip.

Dean left to put in another order of something deep fried and sinful.

“Dude, you’re a fucking mess.” Sam said pointing out the buffalo sauce on Dean’s face and handing him a wet wipe.

“Shut up.” Dean snapped but still took the napkin to wipe himself down. Sam looked at his watch. Dean finished the beer. “Five minutes, guarantee it.”

Both their attention was caught by the creak of the door opening up. A girl who had no business alone at a bar like this walked in unaccompanied. She scanned the room as if looking for something and rolled her eyes, Dean assumed she received a not so smooth greeting from the biker at the end of the bar.

“Jesus Christ.” Dean whispered, hardly being able to move, struck by her presence. “Dibs.” He called a little bit louder to Sam who was watching her too.

“Can you just wait until Mike gets here and maybe we can have a civilized conversation for once.” Sam complained.

“Hey don’t be jealous just because I claimed the rights.” Dean said still watching her.

—

It took every ounce of your being not to drag that biker out to the parking lot and kick his ass. You managed to only roll your eyes before scanning the bar again. You scanned the room and made eye contact with Dean. In fact, both boys were staring at you. Either your disguise was not as good as you thought it was or their options were limited today. You scanned the bar again. Yup, options limited. You were one of three women in the bar.

As was your custom at the end of every hunt, you made your way to the jukebox to find something that would fit the case. You smiled as you chose Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles. You glanced at Sam and Dean again, who appeared to be in a small argument. One would occasionally look your way. Your heartbeat increased rapidly as you made your way to the bar. You looked at the door considering running out and leaving town. It would be a dick move, but you could text them saying something came up and you would no longer be able to meet them. You picked at your nails as you waited for the bartender’s attention. ‘No turning back, no turning back.’ You repeated over and over again trying to build up courage.

Finally you were noticed and you ordered three of the usual brew. You bit the inside of your cheek attempting to ignore the wandering eyes at the bar. When all three beers were on the counter, you quickly scooped them up and jolted out of the possible reach of any hands. Without thinking you immediately went to the high top. Sam and Dean shared a confused look before getting a better look at you. Your mind froze remembering you weren’t dressed up and thought quickly of possible exit plans. ‘Just fucking do it’ you mentally yelled at yourself.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to initially get out.

“Umm.. Hey.” Sam greeted you almost as if he were trying to process a piece of missing information. You greedily started downing your beer.

“You know my brother Sammy here isn’t into a whole lot, but I can show you a good time.” Dean grabbed one to the beers toasting you with a wink.

Suddenly he wasn’t as charming now that he was actually hitting on you. “Fuck off Dean.” The sound of your own voice surprised you.

Dean furrowed his brow and he instinctively put his hand over his gun, not yet pulling it out, but wanting to be prepared. Sam looked between the two of you.

You glanced at his hand over his gun, making it obvious you knew. “Really?”

“I’m sorry have we met?” Sam asked confused.

“In a way….” You started on the beer you had intended for Sam.

“You’d better start explaining princess.” Dean demanded.

“Oh like hell you’re going to call me princess.” You argued. Sam stared at you almost with a sense of familiarity. “My name is Y/N… you know me better as Mike.” You saw a spark of recognition in Sam’s eyes as Dean started laughing hysterically.

“Oh god, you really had me going. He put you up to this, didn’t he? How much is he paying you?” Dean said through laughter. You sat straight-faced taking another sip of beer. “Seriously? I’ll pay you double to throw this back at him.”

You found ‘Mike’s’ voice in the back of your throat. “It’s really me Dean.” Dean instantly stopped laughing and went back for his gun. You reached your arm out across the table and switched back to your usual voice. “Go on.” You instructed. “Holy water, silver, the works… I have my own but I am sure you’d trust yours more.” 

Dean didn’t hesitate. You finally made eye contact with Sam as Dean went through whatever steps were making him feel more secure.

“I don’t think she’s lying..” Sam broke his silence. “I think she is him….”

You both looked at Dean who was putting away his silver pocket knife. He looked furious.

“I don’t expect you to understand why I do it, but I can try to explain my reasons…” You suggested trying to elicit a response from Dean. “I can even show you the process if that would help…”

“Forget it… and forget us.” Dean laid a few dollars on the table to cover his bill and started to walk out.

“What the hell?!” You called out to him as you felt your eyes start to sting. “You won’t even hear me out?”

Dean didn’t respond, didn’t even take a second glance, just strolled out of the bar. The air in your lungs seemed trapped and your body frozen. The only people you trusted in life, people you would consider family were walking out on you. You turned back around to the table, grabbing some change out of your wallet to cover the rest, fully expecting Sam to walk out as well, following his brother.

“Y/N, right?” Sam asked.

You winced, your name sounding so odd coming from him. You nodded to confirm and glanced up to see Sam sitting put at the table. The server came by with Dean’s order and two more beers.

“Just give him some time…” Sam tried to encourage you. “But for now, I’m here to listen.”

You sat down trying to think of where to begin. Sam took a couple of fries from the basket and pushed it your way. You bleakly smirked before grabbing a bit. You sat in silence for a few minutes, Sam giving you the time you needed.

“… I don’t know if I can admit all the reasons tonight,” You started. “I’m not even sure I can fully admit everything to myself, but I think the biggest reason is not wanting to come across as vulnerable.” Sam nodded. “I did start out myself you know. But I just got so sick of being second guessed by sheriffs, people thinking I couldn’t handle my own, not to mention every monster’s need to taunt how they are going to have their way with me… It just became easier as Mike.” To tried to explain to him as best you could.

“I think I understand.. Not exactly what you are going through, but… as a child, a demon put his blood into my system. I lived so long with people assuming the worst of me, that I would go dark or screw up. I just wanted to be given a chance anyone else had.” Sam disclosed; trying to empathize with you.

“What a couple of screwed up sons of bitches we turned out to be.” You grimly joked.

“You got that right.” Sam clinked bottles with you before taking a swig.

“… I’m still the same guy Sam… maybe just a little less into the ladies as I came across… but my back story, what we’ve talked about, it’s all true. It’s all me. I just hope…” You were cut off by the sound of a horn loudly honking in the parking lot. You knew it was Dean in the Impala. You refused to look at Sam and started picking at the beer’s label.

Sam reached across the table, lightly grabbing your wrist to gain your attention. “Hey, I’ll talk to him okay?” You nodded your head, unsure if Dean’s feelings would ever change. Sam dropped a couple more dollars on the table before heading out. “I’m sure we’ll see you around soon.”

You sighed sipping down the rest of your beer, feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. This entire night was a fucking mistake. A gruff man from the bar joined you at the table.

“I have to admit, I’m not sorry you struck out.” He started as you clenched your jaw trying to contain your temper. “You know, if you’re lonely, I can keep you warm tonight.”

“Touch me once and I’ll guarantee you’ll be unconscious for a week.” You threatened.

“That’s alright darlin’, I like my girls with a bit of feistiness.” He winked at you.

You pulled out your concealed gun, laying on the table pointed his direction. “That wasn’t a fucking invitation.” 

He got up without saying a word. You had enough of tonight. You shoved yourself away from the table and hustled back outside with no direction other than revenge.

—

A month and a half had passed since that dreadful night. You hadn’t heard from Sam or Dean. You nearly dialed Sam a dozen times but his silence was a clear message in your mind. They wanted nothing more to do with you. But it was easy to distract yourself from their abandonment. You had stopped investigating random cases solely focused on seeking out the abomination that killed your family.

Back in the security of Mike, you had started out by solely seeking out demon cases, but it was clear these low level scum had no information or agendas. Crossroad demons were much easier to lure and they had ways of getting information. No, you didn’t intend to sell your soul for revenge, but you trapped them - attempting to make them squeal. You had burned through three already, but it helped you strengthen your technique and learn how to lengthen out the process.

Stationed in an abandoned house somewhere out in the boonies, your fourth subject was currently blindfolded and secured tightly to a chair. You had rigged a leaky pipe on the ceiling and about every 10 seconds or so, a drip of holy water fell directly onto him. He laughed it off at first, but hours turned into days, and you could tell he would be a squealer.

“Please, stop this, this is insane!” It pleaded. You stayed seated watching him emotionless. “I’ll do anything please!” You ripped the blindfold off.

“I’m looking for the one called Corson.” You finally broke your day-long silence, your voice low and impatient.

“I don’t know the guy, never met him I swear!” The demon vowed.

You laughed. “That’s a shame.” You got up to pack your bag and started walking out the house showing your intentions were clear to leave him trapped.

“Wait! Please! I’ll make you a deal!” He offered.

You stayed facing the door. “I don’t make deals with your kind.” 

“No, not that kind of deal,” He argued. “You let me go and I’ll find out everything I can.”

You turned around offended. “You think I would trust you?” 

“Why not?” He argued. “All I care about is staying alive and meeting my quota. I don’t give a hoot about your beef with some other guy.”

You rolled your eyes unconvinced.

“We’ll shake on it, I can’t break a deal…” He continued to tempt you.

Your emotions got the best of you, you reached out your hand accepting the offer. Words crawled their way up your arm, burning as they went, and in one moment they completely disappeared.

“So first you need to hold up your end of the deal.” He explained after another drop of water fell down.

“How will you find me?” You asked before setting him free.

“You’ll find me.” He corrected. “Summon me at the same crossroads three days from now.”

Ignoring all logic you rubbed away part of the trap with the heel of your boot. As soon as it broke, the demon vanished from his binds. You knew you were taking a big risk and understood you still should not trust this creature, so you began to prepare for the worst.

—

The rat ran right back to the sewer, to the king of rats, to the king of Hell, Crowley. He sat aloof on his throne reading through a proposal when the crossroads demon came bursting in, out of breath.

“Percival.” Crowley acknowledged handing the scroll to the demon on his right. The crossroads demon knelt down on one knee and bowed his head. “You’re behind your monthly quota.”

“Yes, my liege, but..” He started.

“You’re in luck I still need you around, Percy. Hopefully not scared off by this hunter targeting our kind… Otherwise I may need to replace you.” Crowley threatened.

“That’s just it sir. I found him. Had me tied up for four days, but I made a deal with him to let me go if I inquired about Corson. Supposed to meet him back outside of Lafayette in three days.” Percy explained.

Crowley scoffed. Corson had been rotting away in a catacomb for centuries. “Well, then, I’ll just have to pay this hunter a visit myself since the lot of you can’t do a damn thing about it.” He complained annoyed. He waved him away to dismiss him.

A guard came to pull him up by the shoulder. “You should know he’s friends with the Winchesters.” Percy warned.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure of this?”

“He pulled out his phone more than once. Saw the names Sam and Dean with my own eyes.” Percy explained.

Crowley nodded at the guard to continue removing Percy. “It might be nice to pay Moose and Squirrel a visit anyways.” He thought outloud.

—

Sam and Dean had spent the last month and a half as usual, taking up cases and settling down in the bunker during low times. The night of your confession, Dean had fumed at Sam on the ride home about how he was sick of being lied to, how he couldn’t trust anyone, and what was your real motive behind it all. Sam wasn’t convinced by Dean’s anger, he tried to dig down deeper but Dean would just shut down.

Sam would try to test the waters every now and then, bringing up a memory of a shared case or thinking out loud about what your perspective might be on certain things. The mention of you usually resulted in a scowl from Dean. Sam almost called you a couple times, but didn’t want to report a lack of progress on Dean.

Hiding out in the bunker for the weekend, Sam was in the library studying up on international myths as it seemed there had been an influx lately. Dean was either in the kitchen or brooding in his room. The study session was interrupted when Crowley appeared on the opposite end of the table.

Sam immediately lunged for the nearest weapon. “How the hell did you get in?”

“I have my ways.” Crowley examined his nails nonchalantly.

“What do you want?” Sam demanded.

“Nothing, just giving you another favor per usual.” Crowley circled the desk keeping a distance from Sam.

Dean joined them entering from the kitchen, demon blade in hand. “Start explaining.”

“Greeted with such hostility, you’d think we were on opposite sides.” Crowley smirked. Both boys remained silent with their jaws clenched. “Here’s the deal, I have a problem that needs to be eliminated. I’m giving you the chance to take care of it before I do.”

“We’re not your errand boys.” Sam objected.

Crowley ignored him. “You see, my crossroads dealers are disappearing left and right so naturally no one is wanting to deal. One of my rats discovered the hunter is one of your colleagues. So, I am graciously giving you the opportunity to stop him before he digs another hole. Otherwise, I’ll be showing up with hounds.”

Sam became worried. “Who’s the hunter?”

“Some bloke named Mike. And by the way, he’s stirring up trouble for someone who’s already dead. You can tell him that too.” Crowley cautioned before disappearing.

Sam looked at Dean who was just as concerned as he was. Discarding the weapon, Sam reached for his phone and immediately dialed your number.

“Hey Mike.” Sam greeted automatically.

“What’s up?” You answered hoarsely.

Sam looked at Dean, searching for a way forward. “Uh… Dean and I are on a case and need your help…”

“Sorry Sam, I’m dealing with some of my own demons right now.” You admitted bleakly.

Dean grabbed the phone from Sam. “Listen sweetheart, we know what you’re up to and the king of hell is coming your way. So you’d better hightail it outta of there.” Dean warned.

You scoffed before gritting your teeth. “Let him come.” You said before hanging up the phone.

“Shit!” Dean slammed down the phone on the table, quickly formulating a plan. “Get her location and pack your things.” Dean directed at Sam before leaving to his own room to get prepared.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean sped down the freeway in the middle of the night, Sam had been able to trace your location to a small town outside of Lafayette, Louisiana. He didn’t understand Dean’s intentions or change of heart, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want you deal with Crowley and hounds alone. So he didn’t ask Dean any questions and followed his lead. Dean insisted he drive, it would take over half a day to reach Lafayette with no stops, and that didn’t account for the time it would take to find you. As Crowley had not disclosed the timeline, in Dean’s mind, he needed to get to you as soon as possible.

Sam was catching up on some shut eye - leaving Dean alone with his thoughts. He knew he blew off Sam by spewing generic ramblings the night they found out, but to Dean, it felt like more than just being deceived. It felt like he had lost a brother, a best friend, replaced by someone he knew nothing about. Someone who he had put in danger on more than one occasion. Someone whose captivating smile and hypnotic eyes he couldn’t get out of his mind. He rolled his eyes at himself, putting those thoughts aside. No, they were going to save your ass this one time but that would be the end of it.

—

Of course that rat ran back to his master. It was your fault in the beginning for making a deal with a demon. You rubbed your arm where the deal was scrawled. To hold up his end of the bargain he did have to dig up information on Corson. But if you were being delivered the king of hell himself, one mere salesman’s deal wouldn’t matter. Surely Crowley would have information. You’ve heard about him before; he was cunning, ruthless, and unforgiving. One good thing that came from that phone call was the head’s up.

You didn’t know what to think about the rest of the phone call. You were baffled as to how they found out in the first place. Sam you could understand. He wanted you out of harm’s way. But with Dean, all you could see was the look of animosity on his face when he found out who you truly were. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you; so why should he care about your wellbeing?

Replaying the call in your head, you laughed at yourself hearing the condescension in Dean’s tone. He didn’t think you had what it took to handle Crowley, which is why he ordered you out of there. Well, you would surely show him.

The third day came fast. Your shovel hit the gravel, remembering the patch from the same hole you dug a few weeks back. You removed the old box and replaced it with a fresh one, full of new belongings. Taking a deep breath, you covered it back up. Seconds later he arrived. You scratched at the wig as you contemplated his appearance. He wasn’t what you expected; resembling more of a slimy salesman than royalty, but by the way your skin crawled, it was undoubtedly him.

“Your Majesty, I presume.” You mocked by partially bowing, but did not lower your gaze from his.

“So, they gave you a heads up…” Crowley smiled. “You should have heeded their warning.”

“I’m not so easily intimidated. Besides, I have a complaint against one of your minions.” Crowley raised his eyebrows at you. “You see, I made a deal, and your scum of a dealer hasn’t held up his end.”

“Always read the fine print.” Crowley lectured. He extended his hand your way and you could feel the scrawling on your skin, portions of the text highlighted in a glowing red. “If the dealer who made the deal is unavailable to fulfill his end of the bargain, another may take his place in order to see it through.” He made a fist and the words disappeared.

“Then fill his end of the deal. What information do you have on Corson?” You smirked. This may be easier than you thought. 

“He’s dead. Has been for centuries. Now…” Crowley disclosed.

“I can assure you he’s not.” You interrupted.

“You needed information, that’s the only information Hell has.” He slithered his way around the deal.

“You son of a bitch.” You gritted your teeth.

“Although accurate, I still find that rather offensive. Now that the deal has been satisfied, onto other business.” You glared coldly at him. “You’ve been targeting and killing my salesmen, I require compensation for that.”

“I’ve played fair, I don’t owe you a thing.” You spat.

“Here’s my offer; I give you ten years, happy and uneventful until times up, then your soul belongs to me. Or, I acquire justice now by taking your life and your soul goes where it goes… but something tells me it’s not headed for pearly white gates.” Crowley expanded.

“I don’t make deals with your kind.” You declared.

“You already have, love.” Your eyes widened. “What? You thought that a little contouring and a wig would fool me?” Crowley dangled over you head, enjoying how visibly distraught you had become.

“Go fuck yourself!” You kept your voice low as you raised your gun sending a shot his way.

He vanished and the hair on your neck warned you he was right behind you. You immediately turned around. Crowley forcefully grabbed your neck crushing your windpipe, leaving you gasping for air. You clawed feverishly at his hand to no avail. Thinking quickly you reached for your pocket knife and slashed Crowley across the chest. It wasn’t enough to cause any permanent damage but it was enough to stun him and enable you to scurry away.

Crowley went to follow you but was held back. His eyes rolled in annoyance realizing you had set a trap. You kicked a bit of dirt away and lifted up a corner of a rug with your boot.

“Looks like the king of hell is out of practice.” You goaded.

“This is why I always bring backup.” Crowley retorted, about to whistle when both of you were distracted by the low rumble of the Impala coming in fast.

“Looks like I got backup too.” You smirked.

Crowley tested the boundaries of the trap as Sam and Dean ran out to meet you.

“You’ve got the blade, right?” You asked eagerly.

Dean didn’t respond, looking you up and down realizing how obvious the disguise was now that he knew the real you.

Sam started to say your name but then corrected himself. “Mike, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Complicated? He’s the King of Hell! Let’s gank him now while we have the chance.” You insisted.

“You mean she doesn’t know of our mutual relationship?” Crowley prodded.

You gritted your teeth. “Mutual?”

Dean finally spoke up. “Mutual is a strong term.”

“You scratch my back and I scratch yours, it’s the very definition.” Crowley argued.

“Just trust us on this one.” Sam pleaded.

“Excuse me?” Your voice slipped. “You’re buddy-buddies with this piece of shit but you find out I play dress up and ignore…” You began fuming.

“Not that I don’t love a good drama…” Crowley interrupted. “But my patience is growing thin.”

You quickly regained composure as Mike. “Listen, you get me the information I need or you’re dead.”

“Have it your way then.” Crowley whistled.

Howls sounded in the distance. You looked at Sam and Dean for clarity. Dean had never appeared so visibly shaken before. His eyes were full of worry and his hand clenched his shirt over his heart.

“Crowley enough!” Sam barked.

“Release me and everyone will leave here in one piece.” Crowley bargained.

Sam glanced at you trying to gauge your compliance but you were still focused on Dean. You huffed your agreeance, by Dean’s reaction whatever was coming was bad news. Sam took the initiative to cut through the rug breaking the trap.

“Smart choice.” Crowley advised before calling off the hounds and disappearing. 

You briskly fumbled through your pockets, trying to solely focus on locating your keys.

“Y/N?” Sam prodded.

“No!” You objected. “You call me Mike when I’m like this.” You ordered projecting all your frustration onto him. “You don’t just get to show up here and take everything away from me.” You stopped before your voice slipped for a second time.

“Wait.” Sam called out as you stormed off to your car.

He went to follow you but Dean grabbed Sam’s arm, holding him back. “Let her go.” He whispered to Sam. “She needs some time to cool off.” Dean waited for you to peel out before continuing. “And of course we’ll follow her at a distance to make sure she doesn’t do anything else this stupid.” Sam joined him in the Impala and began tailing you with the headlights off.

You made it back to the run down house you were currently squatting in. In the car you had managed to rip off all semblance of Mike. Upon entering the house, you immediately headed straight for the whiskey on the counter. You were fiddling with the cap and headed for the living room when a raised up floor board snagged your foot and you went crashing to the ground. The glass bottle shattered; splinters of glass stuck in the palm of your hand. Tears broke way, rolling down your cheek as you hissed through the pain of starting to remove the pieces. You gave up when the tears blurred your vision and your shaking breath turned into cries. You rolled up on the floor with no comfort other than your own embrace.

The night was long, but when you woke in the morning your soul felt refreshed from letting it go; letting everything go. You got ready and packed - planning to leave town, not really sure where you were headed but knowing you needed a fresh start. You brought your duffle to the beater when you noticed the all too familiar Impala parked up the street.

“Unbelievable.” You muttered under your breath. You made your way over to find both of them sound asleep. They jolted awake after you knocked on the window. “You pansies up for breakfast?” Dean squinted his eyes adjusting to the light of day.

Sam quickly smiled. “Get in.”

The three of you were fairly silent at the diner, mulling over the food, no one wanting to be the first to speak.

“Who are you looking for anyways?” Dean grumbled.

“A demon called Corson.” You grimley responded.

“Crowley says he is dead.” Sam interjected.

You pinched your lips together to help calm your temper. “First of all, I don’t trust Crowley. And second… I know what happened to me that night, and I know it was Corson.”

“Listen, I know revenge feels like it’s what is keeping you going. But once you find it, it will leave you empty.” Dean earnestly gazed into your eyes.

“You’re only saying that cause you’ve already found yours… and it seems you boys turned out fine…” You softly disagreed.

“What do you have on him?” Sam asked.

“Nearly nothing. One short paragraph on wikipedia and everything else leads me to a dead end.” You huffed.

“I’ll help you dig up some information, if you promise to stay away from crossroads…” Sam proposed.

You thought it over before smirking. “You got a deal.”

Dean was waiting in the Impala, not giving you the satisfaction of a goodbye. Sam on the other hand, saw you to your car.

“So, I’ll look through our library and see if I can find any more details about this Corson and get back with you.” Sam assured. “Until then how about you take it easy?”

You ran your hand through your hair. “Agreed. I’ll just take up a few cases here and there. Call if anything seems too crazy.” 

Sam hugged you goodbye and walked to the Impala parked on the street. You waved to Dean who pretended to be looking the other way. You got in your car the flipped the keys but the engine wouldn’t turn over.

“Come on, come on… Dammit!” You yelled after several attempts. “You piece of shit!”

After slamming the steering wheel, you popped the hood and got out to inspect it. The impala’s engine roared to life and Dean was just about to pull away. You ran to the road and Dean braked but didn’t cut the engine. Sam rolled down his window.

“Any chance you could spare a minute for a jump?” You sheepishly asked.

You rubbed your temples in frustration as after several minutes of being hooked up to the Impala, your beater still would not start.

“Dean, could you be useful and come take a look at this?” Sam demanded.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed dragging himself over to look under your hood. “I don’t know. It all looks like shit. It could be anything.”

“Maybe I’ll just stick in town then… get a job until I can raise enough money to buy something else.” You thought aloud.

“Great idea.” Dean impatiently agreed.

Sam scolded Dean with a look. “Listen, Y/N… why don’t you just come stay with us for a while. Until you figure something else out.”

Dean clenched his jaw, but his eyes immediately went to you waiting for a reaction.

“Nah, I couldn’t impose myself.” You hesitated.

“You’re not imposing. Seriously, just come with us.” Sam insisted.

You stared at Dean, searching for permission. He rolled his eyes and much to your surprise nodded his head toward the Impala. You exchanged shocked glances with Sam, before gathering up your things and throwing them in the trunk. You got in the back seat of the Impala for the first time as yourself. Dean pulled out, leaving your pathetic excuse for a car behind.

Hours passed by on the road, the three of you remained fairly silent. As the night settled in, you drifted off to sleep. You managed to catch a few hours until a bounce from a pothole jolted you awake.

“Sorry.” Dean mumbled.

You took a few minutes to reorient yourself. Dean had the radio softly going. Sam somehow managed to stay asleep. You pulled your hair back into a loose braid, checking in the rearview mirror to ensure it looked half decent. Dean’s gaze met yours through the mirror, his eyes showing shades of green even in the dark of the night. Both of you promptly averted your eyes from each other, a blush still lingering in your cheeks.

“Dean…” You murmured, continuing as he remained silent. “I never meant to hurt you or betray your trust. The hunt we ran into each other on, was the first time I have ever worked with other hunters, I was convinced we wouldn’t cross paths again. But then we did again and again. By the time I felt convicted, you had already known me as Mike for so long, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was afraid… I still am… “ You looked in the mirror, Dean’s eyes were focused on the road. He pursed his lips together, chewing over your words. “I did it to protect myself, to build a wall around this sinking feeling of insecurity.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, kid.” Dean remarked.

You waited for Dean to continue but broke the silence when he didn’t. “So, you find out I’m a girl and think you’re entitled to all these different pet names?” You joked with him, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Dean silently laughed. “Yeah, I guess so…” A few more minutes of silence passed. “Hey, what do you think about taking the wheel for a couple hours? I could use some shut eye.”

You scoffed. “Stop shitting me.” No one other than a Winchester was allowed behind her wheel; Dean barely even let Sam drive.

“Nah, I’m serious.” He affirmed.

“… Yeah… I’d be good for a few hours.” You reluctantly agreed.

Dean pulled over to the side of the road. You switched spots in amazement. Getting in the driver’s seat felt like 10 hours of sleep and two cups of coffee. You grazed your hand over the wheel. Dean sat outside for a couple minutes but it went unnoticed as you became familiar with the ins and outs of the car.

Dean waited for you to get into the driver’s seat. He walked around to the other side of the car. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few spark plugs he had stolen earlier that day from your car. He smiled to himself as he tossed them aside in the grass and got into the back seat.

“Lebanon, right?” You asked.

“Yup, home sweet home.” Dean confirmed.

You pulled the shift in gear and headed down the open road.

—-

Your spirit had put Crowley in a mood. He half heartedly was listening through his minions’ updates and agendas as he chewed over the events of last night.

“I’ll be out for a while.” He abruptly ended the meeting.

He found himself in dusty, ancient catacombs under the city of Jerusalem. Under Solomon’s palace to be precise, where it used to stand that is. Four alabaster stone tombs lined each wall. The west tomb caught his attention. Seals written in several languages had been broken long enough for the dust to settle back over them. Crowley closer inspected the tomb, pushing the top aside with the snap of his finger.

“Interesting…” He thought aloud, observing the empty tomb.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a few days and you were still empty handed. The library was turned over. Books were everywhere, littering the tables and floor. At least three laptops were open with different searches and translations running at all times. Sam was aghast at what little information was turning up, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t dedicated in giving it his all.

You on the other hand were going stir crazy. Your mind was spinning with images of words and your dreams were filled with Corson and his cold, black eyes. You needed to run, you need to punch something, you needed to hide. You splashed your face with cold water to break the thought pattern. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable; the boundaries between you and Mike blending together. What you really needed was a case.

You found Sam in the library. “Can I borrow a ride?”

He put a pencil down. “What for?”

“Listen, I really appreciate you helping me out and stuff, but I need some air and I think we could all use a little break.” You suggested.

Sam frowned but agreed. “Yeah, it might be helpful to take a look again with fresh eyes.”

“Well, I found a case so I’ll be back in a couple days tops.” You explained as Dean entered.

“Dude yes. I need a case. When are we leaving?” He asked filled with anticipation.

“Oh, I meant just me. It seems like a simple salt and burn. Definitely not a three man case.” You diminished.

“Why don’t you and Dean just go then. I’ll hold down the fort.” Sam suggested.

“What you’re really saying is you need some ‘you time,’ don’t want us to know about your weekly pedicures.” Dean joked. “But whatever. Y/N pack your things. We’ll leave in 20.” He instructed before leaving the room.

Sam and you exchanged shocked glances. “Dude. What the hell?” You whispered.

“What? I don’t mind keeping at it while you two take a break. Besides it would be good for you two to… reconnect.” Sam defended.

You sneered at him. “Reconnect?”

Sam sighed. “Listen, I’ve been thinking… I know you’ve never settled in anywhere and had a place to call home… I was thinking maybe you staying here could become more permanent.”

“Sam.” You interrupted, touched by his kindness.

“But you and Dean would need to learn how to get along, a hunt with just you two could do the trick.” Sam suggested.

“Or break the deal entirely.” You rolled your eyes.

“You guys were practically best friends. Show him that you still have that.” Sam encouraged.

“10 minutes.” Dean yelled from the hallway.

“He’s not joking.” Sam confirmed.

“He doesn’t even know where we are going.” You laughed.

“You think that’s going to stop him?” Sam doubted.

You thought about it. “Shit.” You ran to pack your things; knowing Dean would leave without you.

Dean was speeding northeast on the freeway headed to some no-name town in Wisconsin. The ride had been fairly silent. You were reading through police reports on your phone while munching down on some twizzlers.

“What do you got?” Dean questioned over the sound of the stereo.

“String of murders, some related, others not but still… odd…” You explained.

Dean impatiently waited. “…Details?”

“Oh, right. Two of the bodies, cause of death unknown, but patterns of being severely whipped. Another, decapitated, head still missing in action. And a few others trampled to death by some sort of animal. Sheriff is only keeping the case open for the two with the whip marks and ruling the others as accidents. But for a town their size and with their crime history, we might want to look at all of them as connected until proven otherwise.” You rambled.

“And what makes you think it was a ghost?” Dean asked.

“What?” You stated confused.

“You said salt and burn earlier at the bunker.” Dean reminded you.

“Oh… yeah… I just kinda made that up on the spot to sound more convincing. I have no idea what we are actually getting ourselves into.” You explained.

Dean chuckled. “Fine in my books. There is only so long I can sit in that hole before I need to get out and punch something.”

“Exactly.” You agreed. “It’s like there’s this fire that builds up in my veins between hunts, just gotta let it out.”

‘There’s more than one way to let it out sweetheart,’ Dean thought but stopped himself before he said it outloud.

He didn’t have to, you did for him. “But uh, I guess you’ve always had another way of letting it out, huh stud?” You joked with him, a resemblance of Mike slipping through.

You took over driving after lunch and being all too familiar with the music rule you popped in the cassette adapter despite Dean’s distaste for it. Shuffling through the expanse of your playlist Dean upheld the rule, but you could tell he was painfully working at keeping his mouth closed. That was until Heart’s ‘Alone’ came on.

“No. Okay, next.” Dean blurted out.

“Come on, it’s classic rock.” You defend.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, and Metallica doesn’t have long intros.”

“Shut up, you know the rule.” You smiled.

“I made the rule, and I can take it away.” Dean argued.

You shook your head no as you sang. “How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone?”

“You are this close to losing your driving privileges.” Dean threatened.

“Fine, fine.” You gave in switching the song. “Better?”

“Barely.” Dean grumbled.

“Okay, if you have a problem with classic U2, you’re just messing with me.” You laughed.

Dean tried to hold his stern composure but eventually cracked a smile. “Yeah, I can’t hold anything against old school Bono.”

You continued down the highway surrounded by amber fields as you sang along to ‘Beautiful Day.’

It was fairly late when you arrived at the hotel. The two of you agreed to share a double to save on costs. Dean was checking in while you ordered some pizza. It was too late for you to make any movements on the case so you decided to stay in after making a quick beer run. You tried desperately not to stare as Dean exited the steamy bathroom, fresh from a shower. You, in contrast, were lounging in a Star Wars graphic tee and sweats, still mowing down on a slice.

“So I’m down to Godzilla vs. Mothra, Seinfeld, or Blacklist. Thoughts?” You asked flipping through channels.

“Oooh, Godzilla. We talking guy in a rubber suit?” Dean questioned.

“We sure are.” You smiled and jumped back to the movie.

Dean casually flopped down on his bed running the towel through his hair. You couldn’t help but glance his way pondering how to get closer to him, to feel his warmth. Sam’s voice came back in your head, ‘You guys were practically best friends. Show him that you still have that.’ You rolled your eyes and focused on the movie just as Dean looked your way. His eyes lazily danced over your figure.

“This is prime cinema right here.” You laughed at the effects.

Dean ran his fingers threw his hair and leaned back in the bed. “Doesn’t get much better than that.”

Morning came quick. You got up a good hour before Dean, knowing your process would take longer. Dean woke up startled from you loudly cursing in the bathroom.

You ran out with just a towel wrapped around your body and in your hair. “No, no, no, no, no!” You repeated digging through your duffel.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, grogginess still in his voice.

“We have to go back!” You exclaimed, double checking the items you had flung over the bed.

“We just got here.” Dean furrowed his brows.

“My wig! I forgot my wig. I can’t hunt without it. We have to go back.” You panicked.

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, still waking up. “Just calm down.”

But you didn’t wait to hear any of it. Irrationally, you reached for a pair of scissors and headed for the bathroom.

“No, alright.” Dean lifted himself of the bed and followed you. You were already looking in the mirror trying to find the right length to cut at. “Would you put the clippers down?” He ordered. You hesitated but did as he instructed. “Listen, Y/N. You are one of the best goddamn hunters I’ve ever worked with and I’d take you over any handful of other hunters anyday. And as far as I’m concerned you don’t need a fucking wig to prove your worth to me or anyone else out there.”

Coming down from your panic state, you realized how vulnerable you felt. You wrapped your towel in tighter. Dean stepped back a few feet, helping you feel less cornered. “I can’t, Dean.”

“I know you think you can’t because of how you started, but you’ve grown so much since then. And you won’t be alone this time, I’m here, every step of the way.” Dean encouraged.

“No, I mean I literally can’t. I don’t have clothing that would work, it’s all just guy stuff.” You pointed to all the clothes still sprawled over the bed.

“Oh, right…” Dean acknowledged. “We can figure something out…”

Dean dropped you off outside a boutique and handed you a credit card. “Go get a few power suits, I’m going to run to Kinkos and get you a fresh badge.”

You took the card, feeling straight out of Pretty Woman but the fact that Dean wasn’t a billionaire and you knew the card was fake strangely made you feel better. Stepping foot into the boutique, you were immediately overwhelmed. If you weren’t in a time crunch you could have spent hours mulling over the details and talking yourself out of options but there were bigger fish to fry today. Once you determined your size, you grab a few choices you could easily mix and match. You asked the cashier if you could change into one of the outfits now, selling her some story about moving to town for a job but the moving van was running late. You saw Dean waiting outside and quickly changed into a gray pencil skirt with a petaled bottom, a white silk blouse and a matching gray blazer.

Dean caught a glance of you in the doorway of the boutique, cursing at yourself as you realized you hadn’t switched out of your shoes. He slightly chuckled at your annoyance as you took off your converse and replaced them with simple black heels. Dean licked his lips as you approached the car. He was unsure if it was a trick of his mind or if there was a slight transparency to your shirt.

You threw your bags in the back and joined Dean upfront, grabbing the spare cup of coffee from his hand. “What?” You asked in response to his silence. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

Dean regained his composure and started the engine. “Nah, you look pretty… pretty good.”

“Shut up.” You assumed he was making fun of you.

It was a quick hop to the sheriff’s office. You chugged down the rest of your coffee. The office was small and quaint, Dean flashed his badge at the secretary who called in the sheriff.

“Stop fidgeting.” Dean whispered to you just before the sheriff entered.

“Mornin’. What business does the Bureau have in a little ol’ town like this?” The sheriff questioned.

“I’m Agent Townshend and this is Agent Mulder.” Dean greeted.

“No relation to Fox.” You chirped, to which Dean nudged you with his elbow.

“We’re here following a serial killer down from Arkansas. His M.O. fits a couple of the cases you’ve seen in town, we’d like to take a look over your records and head up the case. Hopefully, we’ll catch the son of a bitch ‘fore he moves on to the next town, with your help that is.” Dean rambled.

“Oh you must be talking about Janice and Dennis, they were some fine people, didn’t deserve to go out like that.” The sheriff commented.

“We’d like to review all the deaths in the past couple of days. This killer follows a pattern but every once and awhile goes off the beaten path. An outlying case could be the clue we need to nab him.” You explained.

“Anything for you darlin’.” The sheriff left to get the files. You gritted your teeth holding back your temper.

Dean took notice off your changed stance and tried to divert the conversation. “The morgue on site as well?”

He stopped before entering his office. “They’ve all been laid to rest.”

“Of course they have.” You rolled your eyes as you muttered under your breath. “Let’s pray they have something useful.” You whispered to Dean after the sheriff closed his door,

“Just relax, he seems like he is willing to help us out.” Dean unbuttoned his jacket.

The sheriff came back out of his office with a stack of files. “Marla.” He called for the receptionist. “Why don’t you show Mulder how the copier works. Agent Townshend and I will be in the office discussing leads.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at Dean as the files got handed to you. But you held your tongue as the boys went to their club and followed Marla to the copier.

The sheriff lead Dean into his office and closed the door. He took out scotch from the bottom drawer and handed Dean a glass.

Dean scoffed. “That’s my kind of sheriff.” He swirled the glass before taking a sip.

The sheriff shared a sip. “Let me ask..” The sheriff started, looking out his office window in your direction. “You ever tap that.” He tipped his glass in your direction.

Dean nervously chuckled. “Ahh, I thought we were going over leads.”

“Yeah, I’d like you to provide me with leads that will lead to that fine piece.” The sheriff snickered.

Dean set the glass down, his distaste growing. “No offense sir, but she would chew you up and spit you out.”

“It’s always the wild ones that are the most fun to tame. I wonder where she conceals her weapon in that tight little skirt of hers.” The sheriff licked his lips.

Dean stood up abruptly. “I think we have all we need.” 

“Hey, if she ain’t tied down she’s only fair game, partner.” The sheriff chuckled; amused by Dean’s reaction.

Dean glared him dead in the eyes. “If you even look at her again, I’ll have the Bureau so far up your ass it won’t matter what malpractices or incompetent, lazy police work you’ve been doing around here because you’ll be begging to resign.”

“Why you…” The sheriff started but Dean didn’t stay to listen.

He exited the office slamming the door shut. “Y/N, we’re outta here.”

“But I’m not done with the copies yet.” You complained.

Dean grabbed the original files. “These are the property of the FBI now.” He stated loud enough for most the office to hear before walking out.

You followed him, confused by his change in demeanor. The heels clicked on the pavement as you quickly followed him to the car. He grumbled about the sheriff being a dick, but didn’t provide much of an explanation to the hasty exit. After lunch, you did the usual family interviews which left you empty handed. The victims had no known enemies, no affairs or love triangles, no drastic changes 10 years back, no cold spots or flickering lights reported in the house. They also did not share any connections other than being community acquaintances or friends.

You were currently back at the hotel trying to piece together facts and details. You ran to the lobby to grab a local map.

“Dean, I think I got something.” You said entering the room. He came over observing you marking red x’s on the map. “These are the locations of each victim’s death. Each three miles apart. If we go by the dates of death.” You lined up a paper to the x’s. “It makes a straight line.” You explained as you drew through.

“Making tonight’s target here.” Dean pointed at the map.

“My best guess is whatever it is should show up between 11:00 and 1:00.” You added quickly reviewing the times of death.

“In that case,” Dean flopped down on his bed. “I’m gonna catch some shut eye now.”

You continued to stay up and pour over the details. If tonight was a bust, you may have to exhume the bodies for more clues and that would not be fun.

Dean pulled up a gravel road wooded on each side. “Evan’s Quarry, this is the road right?”

You double checked the map. “Yep.”

Dean drove down a bit further and pulled off to the side around the location you believed to be three miles from the last victim. You went to the trunk of the Impala, Dean popped it open.

“So as far as I can tell, we are dealing with a witch, ghost or an actual serial killer.” You reviewed.

Dean picked threw his items. “Then we’ll take witch killing bullets, salt bullets… and the witch bullets should work on a serial killer too…”

Your hand grabbed a iron fire poker as well. “If not a ghost a blunt instrument may come in handy anyways and an EMF reader.”

Dean slammed the trunk locked and you both started down the road to get a better understanding of your position. About a quarter mile down from the Impala, fog began to settle in. The air was crisp in the cool of the night and the only sound was your boots crunching the gravel underneath.

The EMF reader cracked to life from your pocket, “Looks like we’re searching for Casper.” You cautioned Dean, twirling the iron rod in your hand.

Dean started loading his shotgun with salt rounds keeping alert of the surroundings. A horse whinnied in the distance.

“It doesn’t make sense though.” Dean thought aloud. “How would a ghost be travelling this distance. It should fixated to a certain location or object.”

A horse galloped past you breaking Dean’s concentration. Looking at each other for an answer, you turned to get a better view but both the horse and Impala were clouded out due to the increasing density of the fog. Dean held the shotgun closer, ready for action. The hooves grew closer again, this time a rider appeared on the horse. Your furrowed brow turned to a look of panic as you realized the rider was headless. It laughed as it threw a parcel at your feet. Instinctively you and Dean jumped back. As the rolling slowed, you recognized it as the head of victim number three.

“Back to the car.” Dean lowly ordered.

You slowly followed Dean’s lead, backing up towards the car. The laughter continued and hoof prints sounded again. Your pace quickened towards the car as Dean fired rounds in its general direction. As the horse and man became visible again, one of Dean’s bullets found it’s mark and the rider disappear. The horse slowed to a stop and before your eyes transformed into another man carrying a whip.

Dean fired and missed. The man drew out his whip and cracked it, making direct contact with Dean’s wrist. Dean gasped and dropped the shotgun.

“Dean!” You yelled as the man drew back the whip again. 

You raced towards the man and swung the iron rod as hard as you could. He disappeared as well. Dean sprinted back to the Impala, clutching his wrist and met you halfway. You jumped into the car without hesitation. The headless rider appeared in front of you but Dean drove right through, peeling down the road.

“Are you okay?” You asked out of breath.

Dean quickly looked down at his wrist. The whip had broken the skin. “Nothing that won’t heal.” You leaned over the bench looking in the backseat for a first aid kit. “I can lick my own wounds.” Dean argued.

“Just let me wrap it up.” You came back up with some gauze.

Dean drove one handed as you examined his wrist. You tried to focus on the wound instead of the feeling of his strong calloused hands; imaging how firm yet gentle his hand could be if it grab the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Coming back to reality, you blushed at the thought not realizing Dean’s thumb was lightly stroking the side of your own hand.

“I think it will be okay taped, you shouldn’t need stitches.” You observed before wrapping the gauze around his wrist.

Dean’s hand lingered for a moment in yours. “So. Now that we got our punches in, let’s talk game plan.”

“Are we dealing with the headless horseman?” You asked. The idea sounded idiotic out loud, but you had seen it with your own eyes.

“Yeah, and his shapeshifting ghost pet.” Dean laughed. “None of this makes sense.”

The night ended quickly. Dean tended to his wound more thoroughly at the hotel.

You sat at the end of his bed watching him with sleepy eyes. “You sure you going to be okay?” You sipped down another swig of Jack Daniels.

“I’ve had worse.” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, me too.” You sighed bleakly. You passed Dean the bottle. “So what’s left after this? The bogeyman, slenderman…. The tooth fairy?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Dean took a sip. “We always do.”

“Does watching Sleepy Hollow count as research?” You smiled. “We have to trick it across a covered bridge or something like that right?” 

Dean laughed. “I think we’ve done our part for tonight. Let’s check with Sam in the morning to see if he has any ideas.”

You huffed and laid down across the end of his bed.

Dean laid down too and the whiskey started talking. His eyes glistened as they looked over you. “You know I don’t know if I’ve ever shared a night with a girl quite like this.”

You laughed. “I’m sure your other nights are much more satisfying.”

“Not necessarily. This is… refreshing.” Dean described.

You rolled your eyes and moved to your bed not sure what you even expected in the first place. You had known him a lot longer than he knew you, the real you. Maybe that is why you were impatient things weren’t moving faster. You scoffed at yourself. Like there even was a thing in the first place. Dean was the no-strings-attached kinda guy, committed to nothing other than those he accepted into his family. If anything were to happen, it would have already and he’d be moving on with his life.

“What?” Dean peeked at you, noticing the sudden change in mood.

“Nothing will ever be normal in our lives.” You summarized without directly getting to the point.

“Preaching to the choir.” Dean agreed.

You were both slow to start in the morning and ended up taking your research to a local diner. Dean was looking through the case files and his dad’s journal while you were jumping through the loops of Hollywood on the internet to try and find something factual about the horseman. Dean attempted once to reach Sam but only got through to voicemail.

An older waitress came around with a refill on coffee. “Oh, you two must be ghost chasers.” Both you and Dean looked up at her from your work. “I’ve been trying to get A&E out here for months.” 

“That’s exactly what we are here for.” Dean stated.

“It’s a hobby of ours, just hopped this way after a tour of the Traverse City insane asylum.” You continued.

“Well, if you get any evidence, send it to A&E to back up my story.” She instructed.

“Well you know.” Dean started to keep her from walking away. “We’ve only heard about the ghost from websites.” 

“We’d love to get a local’s perspective.” You finished his sentence.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned excitedly and sat down in the booth next to Dean. “I was in my 20s when I first encountered the brothers. Me and Steve, my boyfriend at the time, we were.. Well, um… listening to tracks down by the ol’ mill in Ridgeway. Well, out of nowhere, this heavy fog settles in and a horse runs past being chased by a man with no head. I didn’t realize it was them until I talked to my Aunt Cheryl about it.”

“I’m sorry you said brothers?” You clarified.

“Yes. I know it’s called the Ridgeway ghost but it’s actually two brothers. Legend has it they both were murdered after a bar fight in Ridgeway in the 1800s. That’s why they are still roaming the earth, because no one was ever put to justice for their death.” She whispered.

“These brothers have names?” Dean questioned.

“Probably Sam and Dean.” You quietly teased. He returned the taunt with a light kick under the booth.

“Not that I know of. If you head on down to Ridgeway though, you might be able to find out at the library.” She slid up from the booth. “You two came at the right time though, the only pop up about every 40 years… on the old mining road. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you sweetheart, we’ll put it to good use.” Dean thanked her.

You sipped down another cup before heading out to Ridgeway. You flipped through the library’s catalogs of old news articles and county records. Dean entered the room after finally being able to get through to Sam.

He joined you flipping through another book. “So Sam said there is some lore on shapeshifting ghosts, they’ve been around long enough to pick up some tricks. A good old salt and burn should still do the trick. If we can find them.”

“And what about their movements?” You asked.

“Well, if they were miners, that trail would have been routine for them. Maybe the routine carried on into death.” Dean hypothesized.

“Works for me.” You agreed.

Hours poured onto hours as you searched the endless records. You had practically fallen asleep at the desk unsure if the words you were scanning actually were registering to your brain. A loud thud startled you back awake.

“Got it!” Dean exclaimed.

You got up and leaned over his shoulder. For a moment he looked up realizing how close your face was to his. How easy it would be to lean in and kiss your lips. He shook of the thought and jumped back into the article.

“Walter and George Von Haller, sons of immigrant farmers laid to rest after a bar brawl went south.” Dean explained.

After you scanned the article and agreed these were your guys, you brought out a county blueprint and pointed to the only cemetery the town had in the 1840s. “I bet they’re here.”

You waited until dusk to get into the fenced off cemetary being preserved for historical reasons. And although the gravestones were severely worn, one you could make out Wal and the other Ge.. Vo… Ller.

“Race ya.” You teased Dean striking the ground first.

Dean took up the challenge and easily won but waited until you were finished to light it up. He leaned down, giving you a hand to hoist you up out of the grave. You caught your breath, picking at some blisters that already had started to form as Dean salted and gassed the grave. He handed you a pack of matches, you both threw them in simultaneously and the graves went up in flames.

Deciding to see the case through, you drove to the next checkpoint, where the brothers should appear if they were following the same pattern. This time you and Dean stayed in the car, EMF reader on alert. After two hours of the ghosts and fog no showing, you grew dreary. The car became all too comfortable as you drifted in and out of sleep. Dean smiled to himself as you curled up against him. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kept watch.

You rubbed your eyes, waking up pressed against Dean. He had drifted off at some point too. His arm was wrapped tight around you, pulling you towards him even closer. Relishing the moment, you closed your eyes feeling his chest rise up and down. He stirred slightly. Not wanting to be caught, you ended your moment and moved away, stretching as he awoke.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and stretched out his neck. “How’d you sleep?” He grumbled.

Amazing, wonderful, I never want to sleep without you again, is what you wanted to say. “Had better.” You muttered.

“And worse.” He added and you nodded in agreement. “Guess that means we took care of things around here.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the news, just in case.” You finished with a yawn.

Dean pulled out of town and you were back in the bunker before midnight. The library was still a mess with books askew. In the morning, you were right back at it, both boys missing in action. You were sipping down coffee when Sam entered from the front door. You furrowed your brows confused as to why he would have gone out.

“You’re out early?” You greeted him.

“Went for a jog.” Sam muttered.

“In jeans and a leather jacket?” You skeptically asked him.

Sam huffed, realizing his lie and tried to scamper away from you as quick as possible.

“Wait,” You smelled a hint of perfume on him. “You got some last night, didn’t you?”

Sam blushed. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed.

“I needed a break too, alright?” He defended before retreating to his room.

You worked by yourself, reviewing some of Sam’s notes but feeling just as frustrated as you had before the hunt. You sniffed, getting a whiff of something foul. A chill hit your back causing your hair stand on end. Without hesitation, you shot off your gun, the blast echoing throughout the bunker.

“Ow!” Crowley exclaimed as Sam and Dean ran into the library. Crowley felt at the wound which was healing up already. “Bullets don’t work on demons love.” 

“I know.” You smirked. “But they still hurt.”

He was about to snap his fingers, threatening revenge before Dean interjected. “Let’s just get to the point Crowley.”

“Favor after favor.” Crowley complained as he laid scrolls down onto the table. “Once your new pet learns that, perhaps I’ll be treated with a shred of respect.” 

“What are they?” Sam asked, carefully unraveling one.

“My eHarmony profiles…. What does it look like, moose?!” Crowley impatiently yelled.

Sam examined it as Dean leaned over to get a better looked. “Ancient Hebrew…” He read the seal. “Solomon… The King Solomon?”

“Bingo. Directly from his palace. It should give you a place to start with this whole Corson business. Start by looking for King of the West.” Crowley advised.

“I thought you said he was dead.” You snapped, gun still fixed on him.

“Thought it better to take precautions.” Crowley vaguely explained.

“Then why are you helping us?” You demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. “In a way, it always benefits him too.” Dean clarified.

“I don’t need some dried up, outdated royal ass challenging my rule.” Crowley defended. “I’d like this dealt with immediately. Call when you have something.” Crowley instructed before vanishing.

You glanced at Sam who was already working on a translation. You packed your gun away and reached for a scroll. Your hand was trembling as it hovered over one, both hopeful and terrified of what it could lead to.

Dean broke your concentration by rubbing your shoulder. “We’re in this together.” He assured.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was focused on translating as much as he could. However, one problem he ran into was the word-for-word interpretations. Sam wrote down what he could, writing multiple options if a word had various meanings or if it did not directly translate into English. He would hand you sentences at a time. You typed them up and chose the best option based on the context of the entire document. Dean was searching through each scroll, highlighting passages where he saw the written Hebrew version of “Corson” or “King of the West”.

Sam and Dean took a lunch break as you continued to power through only with a cup of coffee.

Dean entered back into the library. “Y/N, you gotta eat something.” He instructed. You ignored him continuing to type. “You can’t survive on coffee alone.” He tried to joke.

“Watch me.” You snapped harsher than you meant to.

“Would you at least drink on of these then?” He threw a protein-packed Ensure your way. You caught it one-handed and set it down by the laptop. When he realized you weren’t going to touch it he walked over and sat down on the desk. “I know how important this is to you but you are going to burn yourself out if you don’t take a break. So how about you go take a nap, shower, and eat something.” You continued typing. “That’s not a request.” He ordered and slammed your laptop shut.

“That better have saved.” You warned before walking away to shower.

When you walked back in, the boys were discussing over the laptop.

Sam noticed you first. “Hey, I think we got something.”

“See, this is why I don’t take breaks.” You huffed. “I miss the good stuff.”

“What we have gone through so far tells us Corson is one of four kings. Each king being assigned a cardinal direction. Corson, as pointed out by Crowley, is King of the West. Each king has the power to summon and control an army of 72 demons. And although I haven’t found another title for Corson, the other kings have been described as Princes of Hell.” Sam summarized.

“Okay. So if we are expecting a fight with 72 demons, we have the three of us, maybe Cas can get some angel buddies on board, and as much as I hate Crowley, our goal is common so…” Dean muttered while scratching numbers onto a napkin.

“Stop.” Sam ordered. “Another issue we run into with Hebrew, especially ancient texts is the overwhelming amount of symbolism…”

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“What you’re saying is, 72 might not actually be the number of demons we have to fight.” You clarified.

“Exactly. What it most likely symbolizes is that these kings have the power to summon exactly the perfect number of demons, in a united army, to completely destroy whatever opponent they face.” Sam explained.

“Peachy.” Dean snarked.

“It gets better.” Sam added. “West also is a symbol. In different parts of ancient Jewish culture, the sea represented evil and death and it was to the west of their land. West is also a place of darkness, it’s where the sun goes to set.” Dean rubbed the stubble on his jawline and you wrapped your arms tight around yourself, trying to counteract the growing nausea. “Essentially, we are hunting the worst and most deadliest of the kings.”

“Of course we are.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Why do I ever expect anything less?”

You remained silent. The thoughts flowed through your head, making you dizzy. If this guy was such a hot shot, why would he single out you and your family? What did you do to deserve this? Would seeking him out cause more harm than good?

Dean noticed the color draining from your face. “Hey, you need to sit down.” He guided you over to the chair. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her eat something.” He directed at Sam.

“Me neither.” Sam agreed.

“I’m still right here, you don’t need to talk about me in the third person.” You argued. Dean grabbed the Ensure off of the table where you had left it. Unscrewing the cap, he handed it to you. “I’ll be fine.” You insisted.

“This is going down one way or another.” Dean warned.

You stared in his eyes challenging his threat, but eventually gave in when he didn’t back down. You took it and sipped slowly, the taste grainy and dissatisfying.

“Here’s the thing,” Sam started going back through the notes. “We have enough identifying information, we should be able to summon him.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, great plan Sam. Bring the son of a bitch here along with his whole army.” 

“It could potentially take him by surprise, giving us the opportunity to strike first.” Sam argued.

“No.” You demanded. “It was different when I thought he was just some no-name, low-level scum…” You stood up and started packing away some of your books.

Dean’s hand came over yours to stop you. “Nothing’s changed, we’re in this until the end.” He reassured.

“Everything’s changed! We shouldn’t be seeking him out. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” You pleaded.

“Y/N,” Sam addressed you. “More people are going to get hurt if we don’t find a way to stop him. More families…”

“It’s a case like any other.” Dean agreed. “It came across our table and we are not going to ignore it.”

Your stomach was still in knots but you couldn’t decipher if it was your hunter’s instincts or the scared, weak person you once were returning to the surface. “Fine…” You finally complied. “But I think we should do it away from the bunker and with back up.”

The boys had agreed. When you came out of your room, ready to leave as Mike, neither of them said a word. You hoped it was a sign of their acceptance. But even if it wasn’t, there was no way you would be able to face Corson as yourself. You needed Mike there with you.

In the garage Dean finally broke the silence. “Shorty.” He teased you.

Sam came to your defense. “Jerk.”

Getting into the car Dean hit back. “Bitch.”

“Ass.” You chided Dean in your unaltered voice.

“Bite me.” Dean instigated.

“Gladly.” You threatened, slipping down an octave.

Sam had found a foreclosed farmhouse about 45 minutes from the bunker. It came complete with a pole barn, which is where you set up. You spent time painting binding spells, protective symbols, and of course, the devil’s trap in the center.

“You know how I knew it was really you?” Sam asked as he helped you finish the trap. 

You gazed at him, but didn’t respond.

“It wasn’t the voice, it was your eyes.” Sam admitted.

“Guess I should invest in colored contacts.” You joked in Mike’s voice, practicing for when the time came. With one finally mark, you stood up satisfied. “That should do it.”

“When are Crowley and Cas arriving?” Sam asked Dean.

Dean looked at his phone. “Any minute now.” 

As if on cue, Crowley entered holding a burlap sack. “Love what you’ve done with the place.” 

“Speak of the devil.” Dean snarked.

Crowley set down the bag on a table where Sam had already placed a golden bowl atop a chalked baphomet. Sam dug through the bag, placing the candles around the pentagram.

“Where’s the acacia?” Sam inquired.

“A little bird told me he would bring some straight from the Sahara.” Crowley assured.

At that moment sounded a flutter of wings as Cas appeared. “Sorry I’m late.” Cas apologized handing Sam the acacia flowers.

“A bit breezy over the Atlantic?” Crowley mocked.

“Leave him alone, Crowley.” You ordered.

Crowley scoffed. “Still with the crossdressing? Who are you trying to fool, love?” 

“Shut it.” Dean defended, his hand went to grip the demon blade concealed in his back pocket.

“Even he could tell, couldn’t you Feathers?” Crowley continued.

Cas remained silent.

“You knew?” Dean asked Castiel.

“It was not my secret to tell.” Cas reported.

You spoke up, supporting Castiel’s decision. “I asked him not to… Well, prayed that he wouldn’t.”

Had it been another time, Dean may have been more annoyed.

“So you’re only trying to fool yourself, really?” Crowley clarified.

“It was enough to fool your rat.” You challenged.

“And you think it’s going to work on Corson?” Crowley sarcastically questioned.

“I don’t care if he thinks I’m a crossdresser or not, just as long as it is enough to keep him from seeing who I really am.” You explained, concerned about what Sam had said earlier about your eyes.

“So predictable. Let me guess, he roughed you up a bit in the past and you don’t want him to see your little, vulnerable, pathetic self.” Crowley explored.

You glared at Crowley, imagining which way would be the most satisfying to end his miserable existence.

“That’s enough.” Dean commanded. “Now we are all here for one common goal. After it’s finished we can go back to ripping off each other’s heads.”

Sam, who had been preparing the ingredients this whole time, spoke up. “So is everyone good with the plan?”

“Straight for the kill.” Castiel instructed.

“That means no chatting, no bantering, no dealing….” Dean glared at Crowley. “He’ll be trapped inside and we just go for it the moment he appears.”

Each of you were armed with an angel blade aside from Dean who carried the demon knife, even though any of them would do the trick. Sam recited the incantation and lit the ingredients on fire. The lights of the barn flickered before growing bright. They buzzed until they began shattering one by one. The buzzing subsided leaving a few bulbs in one piece. You scanned around the room, but just the five of you remained, Corson was nowhere to be seen.

“How anticlimactic.” Crowley complained.

“What did you do?” Dean accused him.

“Moose provided me with a list, and I delivered. I’ve done nothing but help you ungrateful, billowing neanderthals from the beginning.” Crowley argued.

“His ingredients were pure.” Castiel confirmed.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “And to think, you’d be the one defending me.”

Sam flipped through the spell book. “I don’t understand. Everything was correct.”

You hung your head defeated. Dean came over and rested his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry… We’ll find another way.” 

“If you’re planning to waste my time further, at least let me know in advance.” Crowley sneered before disappearing.

“I can check the archives in Heaven for additional information.” Cas offered.

“Thank you.” You softly said as Cas vanished as well.

“We must have incorrectly interpreted a passage or symbol.” Sam vented.

“Let’s take a look with fresh eyes in the morning.” Dean suggested.

You nodded in agreement.

In your bed you curled up with your knees against your chest, exhausted from the day and wallowing in disappointment. Sleep eventually overtook you.

When you woke up, you were no longer in the bunker. It was familiar but you couldn’t place it. You rose from a twin bed and pushed a light blue comforter aside. It was still night, a full moon shining through the window. You scanned the room a couple of times.It wasn’t until you noticed the suitcase in the corner of the room that you realized you were visiting your parents for the holidays. The air was dry so you thought you’d look for a drink.

Your feet hit a cold wooden floor. A floorboard creaked underneath you as you tiptoed closer to the door. A loud thump sounded in the hallway. You stopped in your tracks, listening to only your shaking breath. Something scrambled in the hall, it grew closer to your door. The knob squeaked as it turned. When it gave way your brother came crashing through, falling to the ground, clutching his side as liquid began pooling around him.

“Michael?!” You shrieked in horror.

“Y/N, run!” Michael instructed gasping for breath.

You did as your brother said and bolted towards the window, but a dark figure stood in your path.

You screamed, backing up into the wall. Michael used what strength he had to stand up between the figure and you. The figure laughed in amusement before your brother was flung through the air colliding against the wall. You went for the door but it slammed shut on it’s own.

“Leave us alone!” You shouted as it inched closer.

You moved again, this time grabbing for the baseball bat situated against the nightstand. You swung with all your might, but the man caught it with one hand and crushed it, splinters raining down to the ground. In one fell swoop, he had you pinned against the wall. You beat your fists against his chest.

“I’ve always had a thing for the ones that fight.” He hissed, grabbing your wrists and forcing them against the wall.

It didn’t stop you though. You brought up your knee as hard as could. He grunted in response. “Now, think of poor Michael.” He warned.

You glanced to your brother who began twisting in pain, breathlessly and silently screaming.

“Please, stop it!” You begged. “Please.”

He felt your resistance slip. “Now, that’s a good girl.”

You glanced again at Michael who was rendered unconscious on the ground. The man’s hands left your wrists but they were held put by some unseen force. His hands moved to your waist and his lips to your neck as you silently sobbed.

He came up for air, forcing you to look at him. His piercing blue eyes had turned completely black. Something about his demeanor had changed. “I heard you were looking for me, Y/N.”

This was wrong, the memory altered. “I’m dreaming.” You realized.

“Of course you are… you dream about us often, don’t you?” He smirked.

“Fuck off!” You spat at him.

“Never did lose that temper.” He brushed your hair aside, causing you to squirm. “Don’t fret. Had I known you were so eager to find me I would have come sooner. But it won’t be long now.” His lips came back down to your neck and across your collarbone; his manner shifted back into the pattern of the memory, and as was usual for the repeated dream, the terror that took place that night continued.

When Corson was finished with you, he left your broken body crumpled up on the floor. It took several minutes until you were finally convinced he was gone for good. Through agonizing pain and shame, you dragged yourself to your brother who was still lying unconscious.

“Michael, please wake up.” You shook him with what strength you had left. “Please, I need you Mike. Wake up.” You sobbed into his motionless chest. “Please.”

You jolted up, shaking in a cold sweat. You were back in the safety of a bunker, it had just been a bad dream. You sat up, your feet hit the cold concrete floor, panic raised in your chest as you waited for a thump to follow. When it didn’t, you built the courage to make your way to the kitchen for a glass of whiskey.

As you made your way back to your room, sipping as you went, you noticed the light still on in Dean’s room and a record softly playing. You stopped and pressed your ear to the door. You could hear him softly singing along to the track. Taking a final shot of whiskey, you tapped on door and softly creaked it open to find him sitting on his bed flipping through a magazine.

“Y/N?” Dean sat up confused.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“You okay?” He asked concerned.

You chewed on your lower lip and nodded your head. He watched you as you walked towards him, his breath visibly picking up pace as you neared. You grabbed the magazine out of his hands, tossing it aside as you straddled his lap.

“What the hell are you doing?” He whispered.

Distracting myself; trying to replace an old, terrible memory with something new; finally acting on something I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you. The reasons swam through your head.

“Shhh,” was all you managed to get out.

Your thumb brushed over his stubble and you leaned in to kiss his lips, for the first time. Instantaneously it was a spark, a jolt of electricity. So much so, that you immediately jumped back from the charge. He smiled looking up at you, having felt it too. He drew into you again, the same spark there but upon expecting it you pushed through until the sensation rolled into warm crashing waves. You came up for air, breathless and greedily hungry for more. Your entire being shook from thrill and anticipation.

“Are you drunk?” He asked having tasted the whiskey on your lips.

“Only a little.” You smiled leaning back in for more.

His fingers trailed hem of your shirt. Automatically you grabbed his wrists pinning them against the headboard as your lips continued to dance together. When you felt his arms relax, you let go and sitting back up, pulled your shirt over your head.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered at the sight of you.

His arm wrapped around you, twisting you onto your back. As he lay over top of you, he grabbed his shirt and hastily pulled it off. You fingers traced over his sculpted chest and abdomen. He leaned down, kissing and sucking on your neck. His hands went for your pajama bottoms and started to help wiggle them down. Your heartbeat stopped as your vision flashed back to your old bedroom with someone else’s hands on your waist and mouth on your neck. Dean noticed the sudden glaze over your eyes and stopped, realizing you were stuck in an unknown, but painful memory.

He caressed your cheek. “Stay with me, sweetheart.”

His voice broke through your vision, shattering it like glass, and you were back in his arms. Your breath was ragged.

“Are you okay?” He asked again.

You nodded, placing your hand over his.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked not convinced.

You only nodded again, this time you guided his hands to continue rolling off the bottoms.

“Because if you’re not comfortable…” Dean softly began.

“Dean, I need this.” You finally responded.

He squinted his eyes shut, disappointed; assuming it wasn’t him you needed, simply the act. “Okay,” He agreed. “But you want to stop…”

“I’ll let you know.” You finished his sentence.

Dean came back down to your lips, softly and slowly trailing his way down your neck, across your sternum and past your navel. You rolled your hips up to meet him, staying as best you could in the moment. Relishing each feeling and sound. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Not of panic or terror, but one of peace and relief.


	8. Chapter 8

“Y/N, wake up.” Dean called, trying to shake you awake from another nightmare.

Your eyes flashed open in a panic, sweat soaking the sheets. Immediately searching for serenity, you went for Dean’s eyes… but they were pitch black. You shoved against his chest. “Get off me!” You yelled.

Instantly, he rolled off you and stood up on the cold floor. You went for the other side of the room catching your breath. His eyes had returned to their normal vivid green, yet they were strained with concern.

He ran his hand threw his hair. “Y/N, it was just a dream. You were dreaming.” He tried to explain as calmly as possible.

You examined the surroundings, taking deep breaths, and realizing you were no longer trapped in the fog of a dream. You looked back at Dean, whose heart was beating just as fast as yours.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, before walking out of his room.

“You don’t have to go…” He called.

You paused for a moment but pushed past your hesitation, following your feet to your room. Dean sighed, rubbing his hand on his forehead. As he heard your bedroom door shut, he sat down at the edge of his bed chewing over the events of the night. Hunters always had nightmares, that was a given, but from the nights he had spent with you, yours seemed to be increasing in frequency and intensity.

Every night that week had been spent with Dean, in one way or another. Some nights were filled drowning in each other, losing your mind for a time, attaining and consuming desire. Other nights were spent simply soaking up each others presence and warmth; having someone to confide in with no expectations. But tonight was the second time Dean had shaken you awake. The dreams of late had been diverting from the usual sequence of events. Almost as if Corson himself was controlling them, the way a cat toys with a mouse. But that was a ridiculous thought. Recent events must have been triggering the response. Trying to process out past trauma in the unconscious mind.

Either way, you didn’t want to hurl your baggage at Dean. He had enough of his own to deal with. He didn’t need to carry the weight of you both. So for tonight at least, you were going to deal with this on your own. You curled up in the cold bed, chest to your knees, afraid to fall back asleep knowing what horrors awaited you. But you were just as afraid to stay awake; watching the strong, solid person you had built crumbling back down into the weak, pathetic self you once were. 

Around 10:00 AM the following morning, Dean paced the hallways considering if he should wake you. That was until Sam entered the hallway; Dean acted like he was simply on his way to the kitchen. He popped some Eggos into the toaster as Sam poured a cup of coffee. Frankly, Sam was beginning to look burned out. He had been over the scrolls countless of times, re-translating everything. But he could not seem to find any error. At this point, his suspicion of Crowley’s involvement was growing.

“So, I don’t know how to say it so I’m just going to say it.” Dean broke the silence grabbing Sam’s attention. “Y/N’s been having dreams, like pretty crazy ones.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “How would you know?”

“Uh.” Dean bit his thumb. “We share a wall.”

Sam knew his brother enough to well to know when he was lying, but chose not to confront him. “They’re that bad?”

“Yeah, they sound intense.” Dean confirmed.

“Any clue on what they’re about?” Sam asked.

“What do you think, Sam? That black-eyed son of a bitch…” Dean stated.

Sam paused, unsure of where Dean was taking this.

“I’ve been thinking…” Dean continued. “What if we could find missing pieces of information through her dreams…”

“Well, I guess we could confront her.” Sam suggested.

“I’ve tried that. She won’t talk about them.” Dean explained.

“You not suggesting… dream root?” Sam hesitantly questioned.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, waiting for Sam’s reaction.

“Do you think she’d be okay with that?” Sam asked.

“Maybe she doesn’t need to know…” Dean responded.

Sam was about to interject but you bounced into the kitchen, grabbing an Eggo as it popped out of the toaster. You hopped onto the counter, trying to act like everything was normal, yet refusing to look directly at Dean.

“Mornin’” Sam greeted you.

“Yes it is.” You yawned before tearing off a small piece of the waffle. “Hey, how do you guys feel about a case?” 

They exchanged confused glances. “A case?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I mean we’re kinda at a road block with this one until we hear from Cas or get more information from Crowley…” You rambled.

“What did you have in mind?” Dean questioned.

“Medford, Oregon.” You stated.

“What’s going on there?” Sam asked after you provided no further explanation.

“Ummm…” You tried to recall. “I’m not sure, actually. Maybe I saw a news article yesterday.” You scooched off the counter. “Let me go try to find it.”

Dean waited for you to get a good distance into the library. “That was weird, right?” You hadn’t mentioned anything to him yesterday, not even while you laid with him in bed discussing all matters of things before drifting asleep in his arms.

“Maybe a little.” Sam agreed that you did seem a bit off character. He nodded towards the library and Dean followed him in.

“So, there has been a long string of thunderstorms since Monday.” You explained as they entered.

“Not unusual for that region.” Sam reminded.

“Okay…. Hmm…” You searched through the news articles. “Two murders this week…”

Dean glared at Sam, who was catching his drift. You had proposed the case with such conviction but recalled zero details, even after digging through the web. Sam nodded his head who now fully agreed it was a little more than weird.

After a few minutes of hacking your way into the police system, you were able to pull up the autopsy. “Alright, here we go. Each victim had thirty-nine of the exact same bones broken with no signs of external force or trauma.”

“It does sound like a case…” Sam directed at Dean. Regardless of how she found out, he tried to convey with his eyes.

You looked back and forth between them, attempting to decipher their secret language. “… So does that mean we are going?” 

Sam waited for Dean’s response.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sure. Pack your bags.”

You mulled over your wardrobe, undecided if you should take your traditional Mike attire or the new outfits you had recently purchased from the last hunt.

Dean tapped on your door. “You good in fifteen?” He questioned without entering.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. You went for both outfits, deciding it would be a spur of the moment decision once you reached Oregon.

Dean walked with his duffel to the kitchen, to look for something only he knew about. Reaching to the top of the cupboard, he pushed expired spices aside and grabbed an old tea tin. Inside, was African dream root. He always kept some around for unforeseen situations. He wrapped it up in one of his flannel shirts and buried it in the bottom of his duffel.

The road to Oregon was long, but with three of you, you managed to drive straight through. It was mid-afternoon by the time you arrived, and as you had predicted, raining heavily. Dean pulled into a cheap motel and even though you had shared a room in Wisconsin, you booked yourself a single. It was embarrassing enough that Dean knew about the nightmares, you didn’t want Sam to know as well. Subconsciously, you were even more concerned in regards to recent developments with Dean. Being in a confined space with him for a week would bring all kinds of tension. You were afraid it would push you to redefine your relationship. Even more worrisome would be learning his definition, given his reputation.

With time still left in the day, it was decided that you would visit the morgue. The Winchesters waited impatiently as you flipped back and forth. Finally, you came out in your boots, loose jeans, flannel, leather jacket, and of course the wig. Hopping in the backseat you forgot how itchy the damn thing could be. It wasn’t long before Dean pulled up to the police station.

He turned around to face you in the backseat. “So, how we going to do this?”

The realization hit you as you looked at them, all dapper in their suits. You had your routine down when you ran into each other on a case, but you had never shown up together at the start of one. You shrugged your shoulders at a loss, trying quickly to come up with a plan.

“Okay, how about Sam and I head in first. When the coast is clear, we’ll signal you in.” Dean suggested.

You found Mike’s voice in the depth of your throat. “Oh like hell you’re leaving me behind.”

“Guys, I might have an idea.” Sam offered.

You followed Sam and Dean down the long hallway to the morgue. Sam and Dean flashed their badges, while yours was burning a hole through your pocket.

“Dr. Bates? I’m Agent Richards and this is Agent Keith. We’re here to examine the bodies of Christian Orson and Martin Elhiem.” Sam greeted.

“And who’s this?” The medical examiner pointed at you.

Sam’s initial plan had failed, that they wouldn’t even ask about you. He followed with his backup idea. “Eyewitness. Wanted to confirm the details of his story.”

“It was aliens.” You grumbled, unwillingly going along with the plan.

Dean’s hand immediately came down on your shoulder, causing you to grunt. “Despite some concerning behaviors… “ Dean signaled a fake bottle to his lips, chuckling a bit. “We believe his testimony may lead to a breakthrough on the case.” He continued attempting to smooth over your comment.

Dr. Bates seemed to buy it. He pulled out the files and opened up the two cabinets. “Feel free to rexamine both my notes and the corpses. Note that all the bruising occurred post mortem. As it stands in my report, the bones were not fractured by external factors.” His pager beeped. “So good luck on your theories. I have to pick up a delivery.” He left you alone with the bodies.

Dean waited until the doctor was a good distance down the hallway before chewing you out. “Really? Aliens?”

“I’m not here to be your third wheel.” You argued, keeping up Mike’s persona.

“Well it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a little more…” Dean suggested.

“Hey, I can’t help it. When I wear a guy’s suit I look like Muggsy Bogues trying to walk around in Shaq’s clothes.” You explained. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“God. You guys bicker worse than a married couple.” Sam interrupted.

You both stopped arguing as a quick blush crept in Dean’s and your cheeks, both of you assuming Sam was still unaware of the recent relations. In all actuality, Sam was probably just messing with the two of you; attempting to see who would be the first to spill the secret, unintentionally or otherwise. You cleared your throat and moved closer to the bodies, refocusing your attention.

Sam set down the report and joined you in examining the bodies. “He’s right. Other than his autopsy marks, there’s nothing.”

“No cuts, scrapes, gashes…” You agreed.

Dean went through the folder and found an x-ray. He placed it up upon the projection screen, turning the light on. You gasped upon seeing the image; a femur, shattered into a million pieces.

“Jesus.” Dean swore.

Sam sighed. “It must have been excruciating.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean snarked.

“So, I’m just thinking out loud here…” You began while Sam glared at Dean. “But my mind goes to witchcraft.”

Sam nodded his head. “Or demons… potentially a poltergeist?”

“Where did the deaths occur?” You asked Dean who still was holding onto the file.

He flipped through a few papers. “Christian at his office, an accounting firm, and Martin…” A few more rustles through paper. “At his apartment.”

“I can go check out the home if you want to head over to the firm… as your attire is more suiting…” You smirked at Dean.

“Except we only have one car.” Sam reminded you.

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath.

Had it not been down pouring you would have walked. Not that you didn’t want to be with Sam and Dean, it’s just splitting up made hunts go so much faster. What you wouldn’t give for that old beater of yours right now.

You started with the accounting firm. It was after five by the time you reached the office, so most of the staff had left. Dean wandered around with the EMF reader while you and Sam tore apart Christian’s office looking for hex bags. Coming up empty handed on both ends and with no smell of sulfur, you were at a loss. You cross checked Martin’s apartment as well but came up with the same results.

By the time you had finished with the apartment, it was too late to interview neighbors or family. You settled for grabbing dinner and drinks at a bar.

You set down your unfinished burger and picked through some fries. “All I’m saying is it wouldn’t kill us to try something else. Indian… Maybe Thai?” You suggested.

Briefly, for a single moment, Dean instantly regretted everything. He rolled away the anguish with his eyes and continued munching down on his bacon cheeseburger. “Nope.”

“Sam, a little back up here?” You pleaded.

He avoided eye contact with Dean, who was staring him down. “Yeah, it might be a little nice to switch it up a bit.”

“You know, Mike.” He overemphasized the name. “You never had a problem with an all-American menu a few months ago.” Dean chewed you out.

“Well… majority rules.” You teased, your tongue peeking out between your teeth.

Dean double taked, about to lean in to wipe that sassy smirk of your face with a peck. You kicked his shin, reminding him of Sam’s close, very close, vicinity.

Without missing a beat Dean redirected his momentum. “You gonna finish that?” He asked grabbing your burger.

You both subtly glanced at Sam who seemed to be distracted on his phone. Clearing your throat, you and Dean exchanged looks. Dean rubbed his jaw line before reaching for his beer.

You scratched at your stubble as well. “So Sam, how about a nice curry?”

“Uh… how about we do take out tomorrow night. It’s a win for everybody.” He suggested.

“Fine.” You settled. You attempted to conceal a rising blush as one of Dean’s legs nestled against yours.

After a long journey of traveling, and not much of a break before jumping into the case you all decided to call it an early night. Dean sighed as you headed off to your room yet he followed Sam to his own. When he was convinced Sam was drifting off, he rustled through his bag looking for the tea tin.

He searched throughout the kitchen, eventually setting on a saucepan to boil some water. He prepared the rest of the ingredients, steeping the dream root in the cooling water and sticking out his tongue in disgust while sprinkling a bit of your hair in the brew.

He made his way back to his bed. Sam had left the TV on low, Dean watched the local programing as he sipped on the concoction. Some obnoxious car salesman came on commercial blowing out the speakers. Dean swore before he could mute the volume. Sam stirred in his sheets, waking up from the noise.

Sam analyzed Dean, confused, still in the fog of sleep. “Dean, are you drinking… tea?”

“Chamomile…” Dean fabricated. “It’s supposed to make you sleepy…” He gritted his teeth unsure if Sam would buy the lie.

Sam sat up becoming more aware of his surroundings. He ran his hands through his hair. “Dean.” He accused simply with his name. Dean started chugging down the liquid. “In good conscience, I should keep you awake.” Sam lectured.

Dean grabbed his bag. “I thought you’d say that.” He found a needle and stuck his arm.

Sam immediately stood up. “What the hell was that?!”

Dean’s eyelids already started to flutter. “Thank you Dr. Bates.”

“Dean… Dean….” Sam called as Dean swiftly sunk into a deep sleep.

When Dean opened his eyes it took him a few moments to realize he was dreaming. He was standing outside a white farmhouse. The night sky was clear and the stars shone so brightly that he could almost see colors. There were four cars in the driveway. A couple seconds passed before he recognized your old beater. Of course it wasn’t old in the dream, no signs of rust.

He made his way to the front door; knocking at first forgetting this formality was not needed in a dream. When no one answered, he turned the knob finding it unlocked. After a short entryway, he was immediately in a family room. Pictures lined the top of a piano.The only face he recognized was yours. He picked up a frame of your senior photo. He smiled at the youth and innocence in your eyes; most of it had been lost by now.

The nostalgia was broken when he heard a scream from upstairs.

“Leave us alone!” A voice yelled.

Dean ran for the staircase. The first room’s door was locked. He jingled with the doorknob, until realizing the blood that had begun leaking from underneath.

“Please, Stop it!” The voice continued pleading from another room.

He followed the sound of the struggle. The door seemed locked but with a push of force, he was able to burst through.

Corson’s hands had your wrists pinned against the wall. Both of you were stunned at the figure who had crashed through the door. Corson stepped back and you were free. The shock continued when you realized who it was. The dream rarely diverted aside from Corson’s dialogue.

“Dean?” You questioned with relief, making your way to his side.

“Hey sweetheart.” He whispered to you.

He hid the terror in his face the best he could, but he knew exactly what was going on. He had suspected the trauma of your past but now it was confirmed. He pulled you in closer to him, balling his fists together as he met Corson’s eyes.

Dean began. “So it’s Corson. Am I right?” He asked.

Corson laughed. “I should have guessed you would be whoring yourself out to a Winchester.” He spat as you felt a fire building up in Dean. “That’s right. I know who you are and how you are here. And to think, Y/N had been so determined to keep you hidden from me, but here you are. Just waltzing in.”

“What the hell are you?” Dean demanded.

Corson ignored him. “Did Y/N agree to your little trick?” He smiled at the confusion on your face. “Or did you betray her trust?”

“Answer me.” Dean stood firm.

“Violating her privacy… Taking advantage…” Corson toyed.

“Dean? What is he talking about?” You whispered.

Corson laughed. “Maybe we’re not that different after all, Winchester.”

“What you’re doing, have done, doesn’t even stand close.” Dean defended. “Tell me what you are.” He repeated.

Corson flashed his black eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Why can’t we summon you?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t have the answer. I’m just a figment of Y/N’s over active imagination. What do they call it? Oh yes, replicative nightmares.” He replied.

“I’m not so convinced.” Dean stated, starting to believe the demon’s presence was more than your subconscious.

Corson’s smirk twisted into a sly grin, before vanishing leaving you and Dean alone in the dream.


	9. Chapter 9

The following morning you woke in a haze, trying to recall the events of last night’s dream. You were still startled. Not because of Corson, the more he toyed with you in the dreams, the more numb you felt yourself becoming. No, you were startled by Dean’s appearance. You had the occasional dream of him, but he never crossed over to this memory. Maybe it was your subconscious screaming at you to move on.

You rolled out of bed, swinging the sheets off and got ready for the day; putting on Mike’s face again. You were surprised not to have heard from the boys. Walking past their room, the curtains were still drawn. For a first full day on the case, 10:00 am was pushing it, even for them. You made your way to the motel’s complimentary breakfast but after scanning the options, decided coffee was the only safe choice.

Balancing three cups in your hand, you made your way back to their room, and knocked on the door with your foot. Sam opened the door. He appeared dressed and ready to go, aside from his tie and suit jacket.

“Morning.” He invited you in.

You set the coffee on the table and sat down. “Late night?” You nodded your head towards Dean who seemed completely knocked out.

Sam chewed at his cheek, unsure if you were aware what had happened. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Pretty early in the week for partying.” You bleakly commented.

“Oh no.” Sam picked up on your disappointment. “There was just a game on late last night, we had a few too many…”

You looked around the room, seeing a lack of beer bottles. Your eyes settled on the mug. “Right…” Your jaw automatically locked, knowing Sam was hiding something from you.

Sam’s ringtone broke the tension. “Hello? Yes, this is… How many?” He signalled to you for a pen. You found the motel’s stationary set and gave it to him. “What’s the address? Uh-huh… yep.. Okay, we’ll be on our way. Keep everything as it is.” Sam sighed and looked at Dean.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Two more victims.” Sam confirmed. “Mr. and Mrs. Ekhart.. On the outskirts of town.”

“Gotcha…” You to looked at Dean who hadn’t even stirred since the time you arrived. “Is he even breathing?” 

“Yeah, I checked.” He wasn’t joking. Sam thought it over. Even if Dean were to wake in the next few minutes, he would be in no condition to leave. And he knew what the side effects would be from the anesthesia. If he woke up out of his mind like most do, it would only cause your suspicion to grow. “How about we go check it out and catch him up to speed over lunch?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “You don’t want to wake him?” 

Sam chuckled. “Have you ever tried to wake Dean? Besides, he’ll probably be hungover. It’s for the best..” Sam grabbed his jacket trying to be more convincing.

“Alright.” You agreed and grabbed your coffee heading out the door.

Sam grabbed the keys for the Impala and followed you out. “Op, I forgot my tie. Be right there.” He said and shut the door behind him.

You waited for him propped against the passenger’s door sipping on the mediocre coffee. Away from peering eyes, Sam ran through one final check with Dean. His heartbeat and breathing were both steady. Reluctantly, Sam handcuffed Dean’s wrist to the bedpost, hopeful it would keep him from getting into trouble. After quickly removing any weapons, phones, and potential picks from Dean’s vicinity, Sam was satisfied and headed for the door, remembering to grab the tie he had strategically left behind.

He straightened it as he walked out. The Impala doors creaked as you got inside. You looked up directions and lead Sam as he drove to a farm house on the outskirts of town. The familiarity chilled over you as it strikingly resembled your parents’. Sam was already halfway to the front door before you realized. You scrambled out of the car and ran up to catch him.

By the time you reached him, you were able to grab your badge and show it to the officer in unison with Sam. He ushered you in. Both of you grab a pair of latex gloves and followed the clattering footsteps upstairs. The lead detective caught you up to speed but nothing much stood out aside from the apparent similarities in the injuries. The detective admitted if it wasn’t even for that, they would most likely not even have been treating them as similar cases.

Sam and you entered the master bedroom where the couple laid on the floor. The husband first near the doorway and she was back near the closet. With no indication of cold spots or sulfur, Sam and you went digging for hex bags. Feeling through the mattress, going through the dresser, but again, you came up empty handed. You inspected the victims, bruises had started to form, but you assumed they would be ruled post-mortem as the others. You were looking for symbols or objects.

“Thinking out loud Sam…” You started, but stopped when another officer entered.

A look of queasiness crossed the officer’s face. Sam stood up to steady him. “Hey man, you okay?” 

“Henry and Rebecca…” His breath shook.

“Did you know them?” Sam checked the man’s name tag. “Officer Dallas?”

Your jaw clenched while your FBI badge burned a hole through your pocket. For a moment, you locked eyes with Sam but he didn’t realize your FBI identity was the same as the officer’s. You sighed, gently setting Rebecca’s head down and stood up to get a better look at the officer. Ice blue eyes, brown curly hair, and stubble. He did pull the name off better than you. In all fairness, it was just a coincidence.

“I did… we… we were in a church fellowship group together. When I heard it down at the station, I couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself.” He stuttered.

“Come on, let’s talk outside.” Sam directed him away from the crime scene.

You were about to follow but the untouched hallway and unopened rooms caught your attention. The wooden floors creaked under your boots. The first door was simply a storage closet. After rummaging through hampers and towels, you still came up hex-bagless. The next was the adjoining bathroom to the master bedroom with nothing unusual standing out. You hesitated at the next door, your hand practically shaking as it hovered over the door knob.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you pressed forward into the room. The wooden floors matched the hallway except old sheets littered the floor. One wall had been painted over with a soft pastel green. In the corner was a bare crib, with an ultrasound picture taped to the post. Your knees hit the floor as knots began to twist in your stomach. You didn’t know if you wanted to hurl or weep or both.

“Mike?” Sam’s voice called from down the hallway. “Mike.” His voice was right behind you, snapping you from the unsettling fog.

“She’s… was pregnant…” You whispered, voice unmasked.

Sam looked around the room and gritted his teeth. “We’re going to get this sick bastard, monster or not.” He stormed out of the room.

When you were able to regain your composure and catch your breath, you went to join Sam. He was making arrangements with the sheriff to get the bodies to the coroner, asking specifically to be notified of any anomalies or diversions from the pattern. While he continued to explain what he may be looking for, you wandered through their yard to the big oak. The other trees in the area still had their leaves but this one was left bare with a few brown leaves scattered on the ground.

As you approached you realized the bark was darkened. You ran your fingers over the rough surface. What seemed like ash remained on the tips of your fingers. You rubbed them together bringing them closer to your face. The scent was somewhat charred but not entirely. You circled the tree, immediately stopping when you saw what looked like a white handprint.

“Agent…” You called out to Sam, momentarily forgetting his identity. It was some classic rock band. The Doors, Zeppelin, Rush… The Stones! “Richards!” You squinted as your voice cracked.

Sam whipped his attention in your direction. You nodded him over.

“You ever seen anything like this?” You whispered.

Sam sighed. “The only thing that comes to mind is a Shtriga, but the wood rots, it doesn’t turn white or to ash…” He took a picture with his phone and collected a few samples. “Not to mention, it doesn’t fit the case…”

“I’m still going to go with my first instinct and say witchcraft.” You insisted.

“Yeah, it’s seeming more and more like that.” Sam agreed.

“We still have to find a connection though.” You noted.

“Officer Dallas is going to send me a list of the members of his group and the larger congregation.” He reported.

“Maybe we should pick up a list of Christian’s clients too…” You proposed. “And figure out what the hell Martin did.”

“Actually I have some of Christian’s files back at the room…. We could review them over lunch and then look into Martin.” Sam countered.

“Plan.” You agreed.

Sam drove back to the motel. Upon exiting the car, Sam tossed the keys your way. “You want to go pick something up? I’ll get started…”

You looked at him questionably, the curtains were still drawn in their room. “Sure…”

“Hey, uh, no indian though, we gotta ease Dean into that.” Sam joked.

You waved him off. “I know what you like.”

Sam purposefully fumbled with the motel key, waiting for you to pull out of the drive. When Sam entered he found Dean awake, appearing groggy and bored out of his mind.

“You have a lot of balls coming back.” Dean lifted his hand, still handcuffed to the bed frame.

“Only way I’d know you wouldn’t do anything stupid.” Sam found the key and threw it to Dean.

“Bitch.” Dean grumbled as he undid the lock.

“Jerk.” Sam responded out of habit.

Dean went to wash his face with water.

“Care to enlighten me?” Sam called from the other room.

Dean rubbed his face with the towel. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s him, the real him. In her dreams.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Like, sometimes… occasionally… Cas can communicate through dreams. It was like that; like he was physically there, controlling it.” He further tried to explained.

“Did you learn anything else?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, that he’s a dick.” Dean snapped.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anything helpful?”

Dean shook his head. “As soon as I started asking questions he tucked tail and ran.”

“So it was all for nothing.” Sam yielded.

To Dean it wasn’t for nothing. He knew more pieces of your story and he proved to you he’d be there for you. Even if you’d be pissed at him once you found out, he couldn’t help but remember the relief he saw in your eyes when you recognized him.

“Mind filling me in on the case?” Dean jabbed.

“No sulfur, cold spots, no significant EMF, no hex bags… but we did find this.” Sam pulled up the picture on his phone and set it on Dean’s bed, along with the bags of samples. 

“So we’re dealing with Saruman.” Dean snarked.

Sam shot Dean a confused expression.

“White hand.. Lord of the… okay, no.” Dean scratched his head and smoothed his hair back into place.

“Y/N and I are actually thinking witches.” Sam conveyed.

“That’d be my best guess too…” Dean agreed. “But I’ll still make a couple of calls.” He handed Sam’s phone back. “What else?”

Sam cleared his throat. “The victims were a married couple and their unborn child.” Dean’s jaw clenched. “We need to establish a connection and fast.”

Instead of following Sam’s plan, you ordered delivery for the boys so you could further investigate Henry and Martin’s line of work. Turned out Martin was a plumber. You collected the names of his employees and a list of places he had worked on the last six months. Henry on the other hand owned his own dental practice; his wife Rebecca stayed at home but was fairly active in the community. You’d have to wait for the other Agent Dallas to get with Sam about the church group details to dive deeper into her connections. After a long argument with Henry’s staff about HIPAA violations, you finally had a printout of his clients as well.

By the time you had headed back, the day was turning into evening. Sam and Dean where still poring over Christian’s records when you walked in with three more boxes of paperwork. Dean stood up, trying to read your face, looking for a hint of pain or distress from the horror he experienced with you last night.

“Thanks for the help.” You grumbled setting the boxes down on Sam’s bed. “Find anything?” You asked pulling off your wig and running your fingers through your hair.

Sam spoke. “Tax evasion, money laundering, you name it. This guy wasn’t the cream of the crop.” You shot a confused look to Dean who looked like a deer in headlights. “But in terms of connections to the other victims… I got nothing.”

You opened the first box of Henry’s clients. “Well, perhaps we are not looking for their connection to each other, maybe we need to focus on mutuals. I’ll take A through H.” You started dividing up the stacks.

“I’ll take I through P.” Sam jumped at the opportunity.

“Dean?” You questioned when he stayed frozen. “You okay?”

He shook from his stature. “What? Yeah, yeah, I’m okay… Are… are… you okay?” 

“Never better.” You dismissed.

“Y/N, seriously?” He pressed reaching for your shoulder.

You pulled away, refocusing on Martin’s files. “Let’s cut the therapy crap and finish this.”

Dean thickly swallowed and looked at Sam for guidance but he was already too busy crossing names off the lists. The hours seemed to fly by. You had a running list of mutuals that continued to pile up the further you dug. Unfortunately, with a midsize community it was bound to happen. Sam stepped outside to take a call. As you and Dean took a break over more takeout.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Dean pushed, watching through the window for Sam to walk out of view.

“Shoot.” You allowed.

“…About last night…” He paused unsure of how to continue, fearing the possibility of your temper erupting.

“Last night?” You pondered and then laughed. “Listen, I know you’re not into Thai, or Indian, or whatever… I’ll settle on Chinese.” You smirked toasting him with the chopsticks.

“That’s not what..” He started.

“I’m sorry, did you want to share a room? I totally missed your cues.” You interrupted. “But I’m sure we could find a way to make it happen without tipping off Sam.”

Dean took the opportunity from you stuffing your face. “No, its about your dreams… I don’t think they are just dreams.” 

You snorted, trying to play it off. “Oh okay.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, they’re getting better, I think I just got a little stir crazy is all. The case is helping.” 

“It was better because I was there… Y/N, it’s him, I don’t know how, but somehow he’s actually there, in your mind.” Dean rambled.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you were there?”

Dean thoughts on how to continue were halted as Sam barged back into the room, face drained.

He gulped. “There’s been another murder.” He somberly stated.

Your attention completely shifted, allowing Dean to dodge the bullet for the time being. “Already?” You gasped.

Sam nodded confirming it fit the pattern. “I’m going to start making phone calls to everyone we know.. Even Crowley…” Sam asserted rather than asking for permission.

Dean hesitantly agreed but saw no other choice. You grabbed the hotel stationary writing down every victim’s name including this most recent one. There had to be something that was bridging them together. There’s always a connection, always a pattern. You stared at Christian’s name, the first victim, spontaneously striking through it with your pen.

Christian Orson

No. It couldn’t be that simple. It was a stupid coincidence. And there was absolutely no sign of a demonic presence at the crime scenes. But you left it there, repeating a list of names and crossing out to leave only the initials.

Christian Orson

Martin Elhiem

Henry Ekhart

Rebecca Ekhart

You paused, leaving a blank space for the unnamed baby, and continued with the latest victim.

COME HERE, your shaky hands dropped the pad of paper realizing the last victim inital’s began spelling out your name. Breathing as deeply as you could, you continued lying to yourself that it was just circumstantial, nothing to do with the case.

But then, the beer Dean had picked up for dinner screamed at you from across the kitchen. You wandered over, both boys unaware of your altered state, both on their phones, trying to solve a case which you now had all the answers to. You picked up the glass bottle of Left Hand Ales, it’s logo a white hand on a black tree. The distribution center only a twenty minute drive from town. This wasn’t a case, it was his calling card.


	10. Chapter 10

The beer bottle was still firmly grasped in your hand as you carefully weighed the options. Both Sam and Dean seemed pretty distracted on their phones. Cautiously, you silently set the bottle of beer down on the counter. Turning around from the kitchenette, you analyzed the scene. Your coat and the Impala’s keys were both on the small dinner table, the demon knife on Dean’s bed. It should be simple enough if you did it quickly and with confidence. 

Walking over, you picked up your jacket from the table and used its distraction to swipe the keys, prohibiting the potential clanking with a quick and firm grip. You slid them into your back pocket before reaching and fumbling through your jacket searching for the phone you knew was on the nightstand. Walking closer to the bed, you dropped your coat over the demon blade in frustration.

“Have you seen my phone?” You mouthed to Dean making the universal phone gesture, as to not interrupt his call.

He shook his head no. You patted down your jean pockets and looked around the room.

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered.

Dean nodded his understanding and you picked up your jacket, demon blade concealed underneath the fabric. You slowly exited the hotel room and gently closed the door before making a run to the Impala and peeling out of the parking lot. Both Dean and Sam halted their phone conversations and looked at each other quizzically at the start of the engine. When the tires squealed, Dean dropped his phone and sprinted to the parking lot, Sam following close behind.

Dean’s recent fondness for you had prevented the slew of obscenities running in his mind from spilling out. “What the hell is she doing?!” Was all that managed to come out.

Sam was just as bewildered as Dean. “What was she doing before?”

Dean ran his hands threw his hair attempting to keep a panic attack at bay. “Uh…” He breathed deeply. “Um… looking for her phone… uh, before that, grabbing a beer or something.”

“Maybe we were out, she wanted to grab some more, hit the gas peddle a little too hard?” Sam suggested, trying to calm his brother down.

Dean stormed into the hotel room and pulled open the refrigerator door with more force than necessary. “Does it look like we are out of beer?!” He yelled. Dean picked up his phone dialing yours, instantaneously noticing it vibrating in response on the nightstand. “Dammit!” He resisted the urge to throw his phone against the wall.

“Just calm down.” Sam eased. 

“I AM CALM!” Dean bellowed, before realizing he needed to sit down. He plopped down at the edge of his bed, his hand brushed the comforter, feeling like something was missing but he couldn’t quite place it.

Sam wandered back to the fridge to shut the door, but paused. “Wait a minute…” He grabbed a bottle and tossed it to Dean who caught it with one hand. “Look at the logo. Remind you of anything.”

“The Ekharts?” Dean recalled the picture from earlier that day. He inspected the label, realizing it was brewed and distributed locally. “Do you think she went to check it out?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“But why not tell us? We have no idea what we are walking into.” Dean grabbed his jacket. “We gotta follow her.”

Sam still was not convinced. He rummaged around the room looking for clues when he came across your list on the table. “Shit.” He walked over to show Dean.

Dean’s eyes widened and he realized what was missing from the bed. “Shit.”

—-

You pushed the Impala to her limits, knowing they wouldn’t be far behind you. But this was your score to settle. If what they had said about him was true, it didn’t matter how many of you were there for the fight, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Even so, for Mike’s sake, you had to try.

—

Sam was busy hotwiring an old beater as Dean was too unfocused to do so. Dean paced back and forth in the parking lot running through the reasons in his mind and silently praying to Cas but to no avail.

“What is she thinking? It’s a suicide mission.” He ranted. The car finally sputtered to life and Dean ran to the driver’s side. “Lets go! Let’s go!” He directed Sam to hurry.

As soon as Sam was in the passengers side, Dean peeled out of the parking lot before the door was even closed.

—-

The factory had halted production for the night, it was not big enough to be producing nationally, yet a single staff member was still on watch to monitor the fermenting concoctions. He was easy enough to slip by.

You searched the rooms, knife in one hand, flashlight in the other. Expecting Corson, expecting a fight, but still preparing for an unpredictable presentation. One thing you were certain about Corson was he liked a good show, you didn’t need books or ancient scrolls to tell you that. You passed through plastic flaps dividing one production floor from another; a cooler one, you could almost see your breath.

Instantly, you recognized Officer Dallas bound against the far wall. You quickly checked the corners thinking it was most definitely a trap. After it seemed clear that you were alone you ran over to him. Blood ran down from his curly hair line and over his left eye. Although a gag was stuffed into his mouth made his words indiscernible, he frantically mumbled through the cloth pleading for help.

“Shhh…” You hushed as you untied the gag. “Officer Dallas, right?”

He nodded and spit out the cloth. “Have we met?” He asked in confusion.

You sawed away at the rope bounding his feet, pausing when you realized he had only seen you as Mike. “I’m here to help.” Is all you said. “What happened? Where is he?” You broke the rope at his feet and moved to his hands. 

“I… I… was working on a case… going to my church group for information… and, and I was jumped. The next thing I remember was waking up here and there was this man just repeating over and over we just have to be patient.” You snapped the back of his ties and helped him to his feet. His cold hands sending a shiver down to your core.

“Where is he?” You repeated. Officer Dallas brushed down his pants before pointing toward a door that led to offices. You patted his shoulder but quickly removed your hand from him. “You know the way back out?”

He nodded. “Should I get back up?” He asked.

“Two FBI agents are on their way, catch them up to speed…” You directed before heading across the production floor. You hoped he would slow them down even further.

You cautiously made your way to the office door, keeping Officer Dallas out of mind. You grab the handle and pulled hard but felt the force of a locked door. You tried again with no luck. The handle quickly met the ball of your foot in attempt to kick it off. Officer Dallas’ chuckle rose from the other end of the production floor. Your heart dropped inside you as your willful blindness dissolved, understanding he was right in front of you.

You turned to face him. His shaken composure now a firm wall oozing with conceitedness. The flashlight fell from your hand as you twirled the demon blade in the other.

His chuckle petered out. “Oh Y/N, so focused on revenge. I see you’re still that fiery spirit I was drawn to all those years ago.”

You were waiting for him to make the first move, yet he stood still in the center of the production floor. “What poor sap’s meatsuit are you wearing nowadays?” You asked to keep him occupied as you formulated a plan.

He smirked. “This… this is just a facade. When I realized you had arrived to town I tried to be as patient as possible, but I had to see you again. Obviously, I couldn’t go in as myself, that would have pulled the curtains off way too early.”

With the snap of his fingers, the Office Dallas look faded away in a light of purple, leaving only those piercing blue eyes and Corson’s true form. Your grip tightened around the handle of the blade and you actively commanded yourself not to show fear.

He ran his knuckles against the edge of his jawline confirming the change was complete. “That’s more like it. Now, why don’t you drop the hostility and I can explain to you what I have in store for the both of us.” 

“Fuck you!” You spat.

He examined his nails, unaffected by your jeering. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a good tussle, but truly you are testing my nerves.”

“If you thought I was just going to passively oblige, you were highly mistaken. And this time, I have much more than a baseball bat.” You smirked twirling the knife in your hand.

“When are you going to learn it’s all about leverage?” He calmly asked.

“Leverage?” You laughed. “You’ve already taken everything away from me, you have nothing…” You goaded.

“What was that about two FBI Agents?” He reminded you. “You seem awfully fond of them, especially the one who joined your dream… “ Anger boiled inside you. “Dean was his name. Is that the sound of an engine?” You could hear the rumble of a car pass by and the engine cut off.

You launched at him screaming in fury. He dodged your initial attack and landed a blow on your right ribs. Even though you gasped for breath, you kicked back. He dodged again, spinning you around as he stayed in place. You crashed to the floor and the blade skidded away from your hand.

“It’s always the wild ones that are the most fun to tame.” He grinned, slowly waltzing your way.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled from across the room, Sam quickly appearing behind him.

Corson’s attention diverted towards the Winchesters and you did not waste any time. You ran towards him, picking up the blade on your way and thrust it into his back sticking it through his heart. Surprise hit his face and he fell to his knees. A wave of relief hit your entire being, you met eyes with Dean who strained smile showed his disbelief.

Before you could hobble towards him, Corson broke off the breath of fresh air.

He clapped his hands together. “Bravo!” Relief left replaced with terror. “Very well, Y/N.” He stood back up.

You attempted to run to Dean but Corson grabbed your wrist before you could do so. You didn’t plead or beg. You wound up your free fist but before you made contact, Corson snapped his fingers. Dean’s cry of protest was the last thing you heard. The production floor was left empty aside from Winchesters and the clank of the demon blade as it hit the ground.

Your mind was pulled and warped for what seemed like time without end, yet in a split second you materialized still with Corson’s tight grip around your wrist. You gasped for air as if you were saved from drowning. You felt yourself being dragged down a long hallway. When Corson stopped, he forcefully threw you down and your skull collided against a dusty, alabaster floor. Your head spun, as you tried to gauge your surroundings. You pushed up off the ground, but Corson was there to slam you back down.

“I am done playing games, Y/N.” He whispered in your ear before standing back up. Blood leaked from your mouth and nose. His breath shook as he tried to calm his temper. “Do you know where we are, Y/N?”

You closed your eyes, mentally trying to suppress the growing nausea. You had a concussion for sure. You managed to push yourself up into a kneel, but that was as far as you could go. The room spun but you recognized what you could. Columns and tombs matching the alabaster floor. The tombs lining each wall, the one to the west broken open.

“We’re in your tomb.” You gasped.

“Not just my tomb.” He corrected waltzing around the room. “The tomb of my brethren as well. The tomb Solomon betrayed us with, the tomb he locked us in, the tomb I escaped. My counterparts were not so lucky.”

“Why did you bring me here?” You questioned.

His hand cupped your cheek before pacing the room again. “Because I need you Y/N.” You scoffed. “When I first escaped, it was all about revenge. I was determined to slaughter everyone of that flith’s descendants… But he played the ultimate trick on me. A combination of cruel magic to undo my brothers’ bonds. I need the blood of a descendent I love. I need your blood.”

You shook your head. “But I’m not…” 

“Solomon’s heir? No, of course not, but his blood runs through yours nonetheless. With over 700 hundred wives and countless more concubines, his cup is overflowing as they say.”

“I meant I’m not one you love… you’re not even capable.” You spat.

“On the contrary.” He crouched down to your level to explain. “Out of all the blood I have shed, you’re the only one I’ve hesitated to kill. You’re the only one who keeps me haunted at night.” He pointed to his mind before shuffling back to his feet.

“That’s not love asshole! Love doesn’t kill someone’s entire family and leave them for dead. Love isn’t about torturing another while they sleep, love doesn’t beat them to a bloody pulp.” You wiped the blood from your nose.

“Well I can’t have you running off now, can I?” He defended his action.

“Love is consensual, love is mutual…” You continued to argue, disgusted by the thought.

“Love is patient, love is kind… blah, blah, blah.” He mocked. “Either way, it’s worth a shot.” He pulled out a small carving knife.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis Immundus…” You started.

“Oh, that tickles.” He jested.

You had no weapons, you wouldn’t be fast enough to escape, you had know idea what the hell he was and even if you put up a fight, you wouldn’t last long. You did the only thing you thought would give you a chance. You prayed; to God, to Cas, to anyone who would listen.

Corson laughed. “Pray all you want little one, this place is warded… they’ll be able to hear you but they won’t come.”

“What the hell are you?” You demanded.

He tilted his head examining you. “A last request?” He pondered.

“You’ve gone through so much to hide it. Don’t you want to confess it at least once.” You egged on.

He smirked before stepping back. “Do you think Lucifer was the only angel to be cast out, the only seraphim to question God?” He asked before his bright eyes shown bluer until turning to a glowing white light. Three pairs of amber wings spread out across the tombs, a mere glimpse of his power.

That was all you needed to know. While he was wrapped up in his own splendor, you used the blood on the floor to draw the banishing sigil. You searched around looking for something to cut your hand but it was all out of reach. He was coming back to when you made the rash decision to bite down as hard as you could breaking the skin of your palm.

“No!” He yelled when he realized your plan.

Immediately, you put your hand to the symbol. You shielded your eyes from the blinding light as he was ripped away.

“This isn’t over.” His voice rang through your ears.

The floor began to shake. You pushed yourself up and ran for the tunnel but halted to a stop as the ceiling began to crack and collapse, sealing the only way out. You put your arms up to shield yourself. When the dust settled you ran back to the hallway.

“No! No!” You protested moving rock after rock, but your efforts were futile.

You meandered over the the middle of the room, pleading for another way out. There was light, but no obvious entry point. It was almost as if the alabaster stone glowed on its own. You sat down in defeat. You did not know enough enochian to ward him from reentering and before that you would most likely die from lack of oxygen. A sigh matched your own. At first you played it off as a echo but not in a room this size. You turned around, facing the south tomb. The dust around it seemed to pull in and the push out, as if it were breathing.

“So what? You an angel too?” You vented. “Humans not good enough of a sibling to share daddy’s creation with. Well, fuck you. Fuck all of you! We didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The breathing remained steady. You anger melted into curiosity. How had Corson escaped yet none of the others. You wiped the dust away from the top of the tomb, careful not to use your bloodied hand, unsure of what power you had to unleash whatever was within. Not that it helped, you needed a refresher course on ancient Hebrew. Yet there appeared to be a symbol under the wording. A circle and inside what appeared to be a branch with three apples. You leaned down closer to blow the dust aside but as soon as your breath made contact, your mind was transported in time.

It was almost as if you were trapped inside a motion picture, yet your presence was unknown. The colors were faded and the voices silent. You stepped inside an ancient palace where a king sat on a throne. To his right hand side sat Corson whispering poison into the king’s ear. The king motions and a scribe appears quickly recording the conversation on a scroll. Corson paused and stared at you. Uneasiness settled over you but he refocused his attention to the king.

The scene fast forwarded, and you along with it. Corson and the king were together again, overseeing a large construction site. The land had been leveled away and ginormus stone blocks were being positioned into cornerstones. The king and Corson seemed to be arguing over blueprints. The king finally sighed, giving in. Corson glowed with arrogance and left the king’s side. He weaved through the city streets, the crowd clearing out of his way and bowing at his feet as he passed. You followed from a cautious distance.

He entered a shop that seemed to specialize in spices. Upon arriving, a closer inspection warranted it as a shop of black magic. Inside he was nowhere to be seen. You passed through navy blue curtains leading to the back. It was the shop owner’s living space, yet the rug that had been pulled aside revealing a dirt staircase descending into the earth. You were unwillingly pulled downward through the tunnels.

The drag ended in a room that seemed familiar. The dirt walls lined with wooden tables and torches holstered to the side. Two priests and a priestess were finishing a sacrifice as you and Corson entered. They immediately fell to the ground bowing at his feet. With a smirk and the twist of his wrist, each one of them went flying through the air, pinned to a table. He spent his time with each, using the same carving knife he pulled on you. You turned away in horror, unable to watch the scene through.

The heavy presence of the air lifted. You braved to turn back around. Corson was back in the center, his hand outstretched over the blood pooling in the middle. He closed his eyes and chanted a phrase. He paused for a few moments. When he opened his eyes again, blue flames poured out. He reached down and pulled from the blood, black smoke, he directed it to a body and repeated the process twice. He kissed life into each body. When they rose, their eyes shone black.

The scene changed yet again. The king was back with the four of them at his side. They overlooked the construction sight which had tripled in size and production. The priestess, now demon, had adorned herself in fine purple silk and bangles of pure gold. She slipped her fingers between Corson’s. Months passed by in the blink of an eye and Solomon’s temple was near completion. Even by modern standards, little compared to its wonder.

You thought the vision might have been over when you reappeared into the alabaster room that was now all too familiar to you, until Corson and Solomon passed through your transparent form. You stepped to the side as the other three entered as well. Corson drew the smoke out of the two priests and sealed them into the coffins. The priestess was the only one to shout in protest, tears rolling down her face. Corson showed no remorse sealing her away as well.

He and Solomon turned to leave when the royal guards appeared in the hallway. Corson laughed in amusement knowing it would not be a challenge. Yet from the side, Solomon pulled a dagger, the hilt of it glowing blue flowing down to the tip. He stabbed Corson in the side as the guards ambushed him, forcing his body into the fourth coffin. They immediately went to work sealing Corson’s before the others.

The vision went black and you gasped your life back to the present. You threw yourself back, away from the tomb processing what just happened. This was the same tomb Corson had sealed away the priestess. Had she tried to show you that Corson betrayed her and the others? She had shown you a weapon as well, perhaps a vulnerability. The air was growing thin and you did not have much time to make rational decisions.

You moved back towards the coffin. “This better work.” You mumbled to yourself, squeezing the wound you had previously inflicted.

Droplets of blood fell down onto the seal. It began to dissolve away. With a burst of violence, black smoke sprung from the tomb. It thrashed around the room but could not find a crevasse to escape. It stopped and turned towards you.

“Oh hell no! This wasn’t part of the deal.” You argued. The smoke patiently swayed back and forth. “No.” You insisted. You looked around the room, there was clearly no way out. You sighed, shaking your head. “As soon as we are top side… you find someone else to possess and get as far away from me as possible.”

The smoke did not seem to object. You grabbed the carving knife that had dropped out of Corson’s hand before he was banished. You lifted up your shirt revealing the anti-possession tattoo over your right ribs.

“Shit.” You cursed, angry about this plan, but it was the only option you had.

You sliced at the tattoo and the demon entered without question. You became aware of her and her voluptuous personality. Gaap. Her name was Gaap.

“I go by G.” She corrected you with your voice.

“Mind getting us out of here.”

“Patience.” She instructed inspecting your hands and wrists. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been corporeal.”

You mentally sighed.

“This will do very nicely.” She commented.

‘Until we get outta here.’ You reminded.

“Hmm.” She pondered.

With the snap of your fingers, her power cleared the rubble. She walked through the tunnels, following their path from her memory. A stairway led up to the streets, it’s entrance concealed by magic. She squinted as you exited, the bright sun breaking through the darkness. Reality hit you as you took in the city of Jerusalem. You really weren’t in Kansas anymore. You were a world away from your home, away from Dean.

‘A deal’s a deal. Now get out.’

“Oh but darling, we never shook.” She chuckled.

‘Fuck no, get your ass moving, now!’ You demanded.

She rolled your neck. “Such a fragile thing, the human body.” She cracked a vertebrae. “One wrong snap, and it’s all over.”

You stayed silent, for now.


	11. Chapter 11

Three Months Later

Sam padded down the cold hallway of the bunker, two hot cups of coffee in his hands. He was on route to Dean’s room. The Winchesters were used to losing people, often, but this seemed to be hitting him harder than usual. Sam was used to Dean’s temper, but it had been off the charts. That was until a couple days ago. Sam finally felt like he wasn’t walking on broken glass. That Dean had been able to make peace and accept the fact that you were gone.

He hoped to have a meaningful conversation with Dean, perhaps even look into a few cases that didn’t revolve around you. But that hope was lost when Sam entered Dean’s room. Dean was shoving clothes into his pack. Sam sighed before setting Dean’s cup on the dresser and sipping on his own. Dean stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge him.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Sam asked.

Dean huffed. He leaned his hands down on the bed and his head hung in between. “I’m going after her.” He barely whispered.

Sam’s jaw clenched, not wanting to know what Dean intended. “Cas said…”

“I know what Cas said!” Dean swung a pile of clothes off the bed causing Sam to flinch. “I know what Cas said…” He repeated softly before sitting down on the bed holding off a tear.

Cas had joined the boys in Oregon moments after your disappearance. He had heard Dean’s prayer yet was in the middle of a den of dragons retrieving the bow of Apollo - which turned out to be a fake anyways. After he arrived and began defending his delay, he was cut off by your prayers. He vanished but quickly returned to the Winchesters, understanding the gravity of the situation. He could feel your presence, but not locate you, something blocking his vision. And then, all of the sudden. Nothing.

He kept up the act for Dean’s sake, searching for a few days but he knew your fate. He finally wandered the halls of heaven. He had not the heart to tell Dean. But if you were not in Heaven or Earth, there was only one place you could be. Three weeks had passed before he built the courage to break the news.

“And Crowley’s done nothing but help us this entire time, why would he lie?” Sam continued.

Dean shook his head. As soon as he heard from Cas, without a word he left to summon the King of the Crossroads. One of Crowley’s minions appeared and took back word to the King. Days later, Crowley approached Dean in a roadside bar, assuring your soul was not locked away in Hell. That he himself had personally checked. Yet he was more annoyed that the three of you tried to take on Corson without his help. And he had personally been to the tomb and now he had two Kings of Hell loose.

But Dean wasn’t buying it. “Because he’s Crowley. I need to have a look around for myself.”

“You’re seriously suggesting storming the gates of Hell?” Sam challenged.

Dean zipped up his pack. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Sam gently tapped the wall, contemplating his next move. “Then I coming with.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Dean clarified.

“You don’t have to.” Sam assured and left to pack his things.

The boys made it up to Fort Collins in Colorado. The years that had gone by, they had burned their bridges of ways to sneak into Hell, but Dean had a theory. The Devil’s Gate in Wyoming must have it’s name for a reason. To hikers and tourists, it was just another national landmark, but to a trained eyed, it could be a passage in.

Even though Dean’s eyes had been heavy on the road, now that he laid in a bed, he could not keep them shut. He tossed and turned and grew evermore envious of Sam who was sound asleep. He stared at the glowing red alarm clock, counting minutes instead of sheep. After only two had passed, he decided he needed to go out for a drink.

Finding a bar open late was not difficult in the military-run town. He pulled his jacket closer as he drove down the street. The nearest bar resembled a log cabin, fitting the mountainous theme of the area. It seemed cozy and inviting enough. He swung the heavy door open and was greeted with cheer from off-duty lieutenants and warrant officers. Some country station was playing, darts were being thrown, and a fire roaring but all Dean wanted was a couple shots of whiskey.

He slid into an empty stool and quickly hooked the attention of the bartender. He looked her up and down; had it been any other night, he wouldn’t think twice about passing her a line. But ever since he found out your identity, he couldn’t shake your face that first night from his head. He tried to rid himself of your eyes that were haunting him with the first shot of whiskey. But your eyes lingered against his closed ones. Your eyes… and your laughter… laughter…

Dean’s eyes shot open. That laughter, it wasn’t just in his head. It was here. He stood up from the barstool and scanned the room. He passed over you the first time, doing a double take. Yet even though he recognized the laughter, the person it was coming from was completely unfamiliar. Yes they were your eyes and your form, but everything else was…. off.

Your hair was worn long, cascading down in waves, with hints of highlights. Bright makeup covered your face. The lace spaghetti strap top left nothing to the imagination and the skimpy maroon skirt stuck to you as if it was spray painted on. Gold bangles hung from both wrists and gold earrings dangled in your hair, accentuating your face.

Dean’s mouth hung open as he neared you, pushing through a group of soldiers surrounding you, the scene to him playing in slow motion.

“Y/N?” He softly stuttered your name.

You woke from your passiveness and began screaming for him inside your head.

G pushed your lips together in a smirk, setting the cosmo on the bar and accessing your memories. “Dean… baby… long time no see.”

Dean found it hard to get the words out. “Wh… what h-happened?”

She put her hand on his shoulder. An overwhelming scent of sweet perfume hit him. “Why don’t you go get Sam and I’ll explain everything.”

Dean nodded his head in compliance and turned to leave.

You screamed at him, fighting to take back control. ‘Dean, please!’

G rolled your neck, cracking a vertebra, silently threatening you.

She turned to go back to her drink but you continued fighting. ‘Do it! I don’t care anymore!’

She huffed and set her drink back down. “Boys would you excuse me for a moment?”

They nodded in unison, matching the same dazed look that was spread across Dean’s face moments ago. She ran her hand through one’s crew cut hair and down his shoulder before winking and stepping out the back door.

—

The slam of the car door jolted Dean out of the fog. He gasped heavily for breath and grabbed the rearview mirror looking himself in the eyes, wondering if it had all just been a dream. But the scent still lingered with him. Such a sweet and powerful smell; almost masking something. Regardless of what it was, he needed to get back to you fast. Something was wrong, that much he knew. He raced out of the car, back to the truck, grabbing a bandana hoping it would protect him from the scent he suspected to be altering his mind.

He quickly texted Sam ‘911’ but wasn’t going to wait for him to respond. He rushed back into the bar, spotting only the group of men.

“Where is she?!” He barked.

One lonely man pointed to the back door, and Dean went after you.

—

G took you through a wooded path, your breath showing in the cool night air. You tried to stay strong, knowing this might be your last moment. She came to a clearing overlooking the Horsetooth Reservoir and stopped, looking over the edge.

‘Go on then.’ You egged her on.

“Y/N, darling. I was never going to kill you.” You mentally rolled your eyes. “Sure I threatened but I only needed time to think. And well, there was quite a lot buzzing around in your mind, it was overwhelming to say the least. I needed you silent for a bit. But the truth is dear, I like you.”

‘You like me or the vessel?’ You confirmed.

“Both, I’ll admit. But it’s more than that. It’s your ever-fighting and deviant spirit. With our commonalities, I was hoping we could work together to put an end to Corson.” She expounded.

You scoffed. ‘If that’s your end game, what the hell have we been doing for the past two months other than jumping from bar to bar.’

She lightly chuckled. “Had you been paying any attention since we arrived to the New World, we’ve been jumping from military town to military town…. And I think I’ve finally found it.” She pointed to a shadow of the mountain. “If I’m correct, in that base lies a stash of weapons, weapons that can’t be explained, a weapon that can kill him… All I need to do is get one of those lovely boys down there to agree to a private tour.”

‘Or you know, you could just possess one and walk in yourself…’

She gasped and put your hand to your heart. “And defile myself by entering a male? I’d never dream.”

Both of you were startled at the click of a gun. G whipped around and raised your hand preparing to attack.

‘Don’t!’ You yelled upon seeing Dean.

“What the hell are you?” Dean demanded, cautiously stepping closer.

G lowered your hand and sighed. “Baby, don’t you recognize me, it’s your Y/N.”

Dean took a deep breath and felt steady. “Your tricks aren’t going to work this time ‘round.”

“Mmm, he’s smarter than he looks.” She hummed, glaring at the bandana wrapped around his face.

‘The Winchesters could help us.’

She chuckled. “I’m sure they don’t work with my kind, do ya handsome?”

You looked back to your memories of Crowley, attempting to show her.

“Is Y/N still in there?” Dean asked about her side conversation. “She better be for your sake.”

“Hmmm…” She pondered your thoughts. “Don’t worry, Y/N is alive and well. We’re a team, me and her.”

“Forgive me for not trusting you.” Dean stayed firm with his gun locked on her.

She spread your arms open. “Then go ahead and shoot, love… It won’t do me any damage but I can’t say the same for her.” She flashed her black eyes.

“Oh, we are way past that facade, Corson. And this gun…” Dean was interrupted by her hysterical laughter. He faltered for a minute lowering the Colt.

G bent over in laughter and wiped a tear away from her eye. “Oh god…” She tried to contain herself but buckled over again. “You really think… Oh, I can’t…” She tried to catch her breath.

Dean rolled his eyes with annoyance. “Hey!” He raised the gun back up.

G roped it in. “I’m sorry… truly…” And stifled another giggle.

“If you’re not Corson…” Dean thought aloud, an earlier conversation with Crowley. “You must be the other King.”

“Queen actually.” G corrected. “And I’d make one hell of a knight outta you.”

Anger boiled to your surface and G smirked from your jealousy.

“Not interested.” Dean affirmed. She scoffed, amused. “Let me guess, you’re one who usually gets your way? Well that’s not going to be the case tonight. You’re going to let Y/N go or else…”

She cut him off. “Or else what? The way I see it, I’m the only one with leverage here. You wouldn’t risk the chance to hurt Y/N, but you have no other way of forcing me to comply… I think I could walk right past you and into that bar without you doing a damn thing to stop me.”

Dean knew she was right. He held his grip firmly around the Colt, trying to think of another outcome. Maybe Sam would have another idea, once he got here. And until he did, Dean would keep a watchful eye over her. His grip faltered and he could feel sweat building up in his palm. He released his hold and lowered the weapon.

G sighed a breath of relief. “Now that we have all that hostility out of the way, let me propose a deal…” Dean clenched his jaw but did not rebut. “As much as I love her, I’ll give you Y/N back, whole and in one piece. We aid each other in destroying Corson once and for all, and in return when it is all said and done, you let me go freely…”

“Deal.” Dean knew from the moment she handed you over, whatever the conditions were, he would accept to them.

“That seemed too easy, perhaps I should reconsider the terms…” She pondered.

‘Watch yourself. The deal is with him, there’ll be nothing stopping me for coming after you…’ You threatened.

“In that case, Dean, your whole posse lets me go freely.” She clarified.

‘Agreed.’

“I can speak for the others. No one will bring harm your way if Y/N walks out of this…” Dean concurred.

G smiled.

‘Shake on it.‘ You demanded.

“You know…” She sauntered closer towards Dean. “Most deals are closed with a handshake, but mine…” She closed the distance between them, laying your hands on his chest. His breath shook. “Mine are sealed with a kiss.”

She reached up towards his bandana. His hand came firmly against your wrist but that didn’t stop her from pushing up and kissing his lips through the fabric. One peck and then another. Dean closed his eyes desiring your body, but not wanting to betray you. You kissed him again. You. You stepped back. Your mind clear, your mind free. All presence of G, gone. His eyes opened, feeling the space between you once again.

“Dean?” You began to sob.

“Y/N?” He was afraid to be hopeful.

“It’s me… I…” You could barely speak, and rushed to hold him.

He held you, still taken aback, still unsure if this was an act. “You know… I hate to… but I gotta run the test.”

You stepped back and compliantly nodded your head. “No, I completely understand. I think it would make me feel better myself.” Wanting to ensure you were truly rid of her.

Dean took in your face, relieved to have you in front of him. Each moment growing more confident it was truly you. Your mannerism, your speech, even the way your eyes sparkled had all changed, had become more like you. He reached inside his jacket and removed a flask, handing it to you.

You willing took it, unscrewing the top and taking a big swig. You coughed surprised at the burning in the back of your throat. Dean instinctively reached back for the Colt.

“Dean, I think that’s just straight up whiskey.” You wiped your mouth.

Dean’s shock diffused. He took the flask himself, taking a shot, squinting with the burn. “Yeah… wrong one…” He returned it to his coat pocket and handed you a smaller one. “Sorry.”

You furrowed your brow at him, and slowly sipped on the new one. It went down as easy as water. You handed it back but Dean still hesitated.

“Would it helped if I chugged the whole thing?” You offered.

He sighed a breath of relief and came closer, resting his head against your chest. “I… I thought you were dead…”

You cradled his head in your arms, holding him tight. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

The two of you walked back in silence towards the car. Dean’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder, drawing you near to him. He had given you his jacket, concealing your embarrassment of the outfit. Your arm wrapped around his waist, your hand peeking out the jacket sleeve, fingers intertwined with his.

You walked past the bar, around towards the Impala. Dean creaked open the passenger’s door when all of the sudden the bar door slamming caught both of your attention.

“Dean?!” Sam exclaimed full of worry. You both turned around. Sam’s mouth hung open with shock. “…Y/N?”

“Hiya Sam.” You softly greeted. Sam looked to Dean who nodded his confirmation.

Sam gasped and made his way over, embracing you in a quick hug. “What the hell happened?”

You pulled Dean’s jacket tighter around you. “Do you want the long or the short version?” You chuckled.

“Let’s focus on getting you some rest.” Dean instructed. “We can talk and plan in the morning.”

You yawned and nodded, signalling your agreeance. On the way back, you gave them a brief story; where Corson had taken you, disclosed to you that he was seraphim, how you escaped, and Gaap’s supposed plan. Although Sam offered to get another room, Dean and you didn’t mind. Before bed you swiped one of his ACDC t-shirts replacing the lace you were itching to cover up. Dean tucked you in and didn’t leave your side until morning. Though you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t stir, not wanting to disturb him but more so studying his face, grateful you were his once again.

By the time the sun broke the horizon, Dean began to toss. His eyes opened lazily at first, and then all together wide, full of shock. It was as if he had forgotten, as if were all a dream.

“Hey, hey.” You soothed. “It’s me. It’s Y/N, I’m here.” You rubbed his arm.

Once he was out of the fog, he grabbed you in an embrace without saying a word. Most of the morning passed in silence. You continued to wear his shirt, but threw the skirt back on and your hair in a messy bun, not bothering to shower. The three of you went to the diner, almost as if you were back in the routine of a regular hunt.

Sam sat opposite of you and Dean, in a booth together. Dean nudged you out of a daydream when the waitress was ready for your order.

“Oh, um…” You thought. “Just coffee, please.”

Dean analyzed you doubting your decision. “Uh, make that the waffles, side of bacon and hashbrowns extra crispy.”

You waited for her to walk away before confronting him. “I’m not hungry, D.”

“When’s the last time you ate something?” He argued.

You rolled your eyes.

“You do look a bit… frail…” Sam added.

You huffed and gazed out the window.

The silence of the morning continued, even as the waitress brought the full order. You slowly sipped on coffee. Dean shoved your plate closer. You defiantly ignored him, reminding him of a time before.

“Y/N, I know there is a lot to figure out right now, but if you don’t eat a goddamn thing…” His bargaining was interrupted when a stranger slid next to Sam in the booth. 

The woman was dressed in uniform, her face plain, absent of makeup and hair pulled tightly back but you’d recognized that twinkle in her eye almost anywhere. You practically jumped over the table but Dean quickly reacted holding you back.

“Hey, woah.” He restrained you.

You fussed in his grip. “Don’t you realize who that is?!”

G’s eyes flashed black and she wiggled her fingers in greeting to Dean. She turned to Sam. “You don’t really need that now, do you darling?”

The demon blade automatically dropped to the floor and his brow furrowed in confusion.

You pulled away from Dean, but he grabbed you again. “We don’t need to make a scene here.”

G giggled and pulled your plate of untouched waffles her way. When Dean finally felt you relax, he let go.

“What do you want?” Dean quietly demanded.

She patiently chewed on a mouthful of waffles.

Sam searched Dean for answers, until he put it together himself. “Gaap.” He concluded based on his research about the four kings.

“Pleasure to finally meet you Sammy, but I like the handsome ones to call me G.” She purred his way.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” You scoffed.

Sam found himself flustered. “I… I’ve, uh, I’ve read up on yo… you.”

“I’m flattered.” She hummed before going in for another piece of waffle.

“You’re one of the Kings.” Sam continued.

“Queen.” Her and Dean corrected in unison.

She smirked at Dean and his mouth parted. You elbowed his side and squinted your eyes daringly at him. He cleared his throat and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Right… Queen…” Sam acknowledged. “You’re almost as ruthless as Corson himself. You prey on men, make them…”

“Weak in the knees?” She offered placing her hand on his.

Sam gulped. “…Powerless.”

“Hmmm…” She pondered, removing her hand and continuing back to the waffles. “Anything else?”

“It’s said you desire nothing more than material wealth and that you make games out of…” Sam hesitated, looking your way before continuing. “Making women infertile.”

You furrowed your brow.

She huffed. “And where did you get this information, oh scholar?”

“Scrolls of Solomon.”

“What those scrolls fail to mention is my endearment for women, a pursuit for growth of their knowledge and education, and that those infertile women… well, they were forced into marriage as teenagers in barbaric times and forced into conceiving children… So I prefer the term Patron Saint of Women but in a male dominated society ruled by a king with a serious case of vagina envy, I suppose a detail or two was left out in his scripts. Perhaps, he would have even referred to me as a demon…” She sighed and cupped her face with her hand, gazing into the distance.

Both boys nodded their understanding as you sat in disbelief. You reached across the table and lightly swatted Sam and then Dean. “You boys can’t be serious. She literally is a demon.” G came back to and wrinkled her nose unpleased with your statement. “Formed by Corson himself. This isn’t some twist of cultural differences. So what the hell are you doing here? If you were smart enough to recall half my memories, you should of hightailed it out of here the moment you left me.”

“We made a deal, Y/N.” She reminded. “And I need you just as much as you need me to bring an end to that bastard who broke us both.” She admitted firmly.

You shook your head, not even sure if you wanted to pursue Corson anymore. Maybe if you locked yourself in the bunker for the rest of eternity you could be satisfied.

She picked up on your disinterest. “Do you think he’ll ever stop hunting you? After what you did to him? After what you’ve done for me… and what that means? Just because I woke up vengeful and full of spite doesn’t mean the others would…” She continued when you didn’t. “It’d be a risk he’s willing to take… a risk he still needs you for.”

“Good thing we have a few angel blades stashed up…” Dean chuckled his way back into the conversation.

G scoffed. “That won’t do a thing but piss him off. He was one of the first in creation. We need a little more muscle for him.”

“What do you suggest then?” Sam asked. 

“Y/N. Darling. I took your advice and sped the process along…” She reached inside her uniform pulling out a sack of cloth. She set in on the table unveiling the treasure underneath. It was a small blade made of gold. The hilt shined blue, the light running up the central ridge. “This…” She stroked it gently. “This is the blade of Chanan. Infused with a grace of an angel… And it will be Corson’s ending.”


	12. Finale

“It’s a trap. I don’t believe her for a second.” Dean grumbled as he sped down the highway - Sam and you in tow.

You had stayed quiet in the back seat as Sam and Dean weighed the risks. G had stayed at the diner, giving you three some time to think it over. She made a promise to you but it seemed like the Winchesters still needed convincing. The idea was to reconvene after noon but judging by the distance Dean had driven, it seemed more likely that he was making a run for it.

“I think we should trust her.” You finally broke your silence. “After all, I spent three months inside her head. I don’t think she is lying. She wants him dead as much as we do, but needs our help.”

Dean huffed before he spoke. “Just because you played a demon’s Jiminy Cricket doesn’t mean you can spot a growing nose.”

You rolled your eyes at his analogy. “She made more than a promise to us. She made a deal. You more than anyone should know the significance of that.” You continued to push.

Dean chewed on his lip, hating the reminder of his own past. He was going to rebut the argument when his brother cut in.

“If Y/N’s good with it, so am I.” Sam agreed.

“Fine. You and I will go with Gaap. Y/N is going to stay safe in the bunker.” Dean settled. 

“Like Hell!” You protested.

“Y/N…” Dean warned.

But you interrupted him. “No, Dean. This is my hunt. My history. And I am seeing it through to the end.”

“This isn’t something I’m compromising on. Your safety….”

“Is not your concern. Any time Mike showed up for a hunt you never hesitated putting him on the front lines, the bait of a trap… why is Y/N any different?” You rationed. 

Sam stared awkwardly out of the window as your argument continued.

“Because….” Dean huffed. “This is different. It’s personal. Which leads to mistakes.” 

“Bullshit!” You barked. “I am the next greatest asset to this hunt aside from Gaap. Besides, one look from her and both of you will be begging on your knees… I’m going.”

“I can’t…” He looked towards Sam and then back to you. “We can’t lose you again.”

You pursed your lips, taking a moment to calm your voice. “He still needs me. He’ll keep me alive…”

“I for one agree with Dean.” G said, popping up next to you. 

“Shit.” Dean swerved the car from shock but quickly regained control.

Sam whipped around in his seat. “How the hell did you get in here?” 

“Well, to be fair I was here the whole time. I mean, after I got my new look.” G ran her hands through her hair. It was the same gal as before, but out of the army uniform into a low hanging vneck and leather jacket.

“We made a deal.” You opposed.

“The deal I made with Dean is only fulfilled if you walk out of this unharmed. So sorry sweetheart, but you are sitting this one out.” Her tone almost condescending.

You thought about it, eyes darting back and forth as you schemed. “Fine.” G eyed you suspiciously. “But if anything happens.” You directed to her. “Do not hesitate to use me as a bargaining piece. You keep them safe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. But, you see, bargaining with you would therefore break my deal… I can’t promise to keep everyone safe…” You squint your eyes at her. “But for you I will do my best.” She held her hand over her heart. 

“Y/N, we’ll be fine. We’ll get Crowley and Cas out there too…” Dean assured.

“Let me know when it’s done.” You requested, pouting into the back of your seat.

***

You sat in the bunker, alone and in silence; staring blankly ahead into a void, watching the time tick by. Sam kept you updated every step of their journey. When you learned they had arrived, you made your move. Standing up from the chair, you paced back and forth in the library halls clearing any apprehension from your mind.

“Corson.” You prayed. “I hope your attention is easily divided because as I pray to you, your old friend Gaap may be doing the same. But it’s not the hopeful reunion you’ve longed for. No, it’s a trap. She is right now with the Winchesters, another angel and a demon waiting your arrival.” 

The flutter of wings stopped your prayer and you turned around to see Corson standing there, in a freshly cut suit that popped with his blue eyes.

“You have my attention Y/N.” He leaned against the desk. “But what you have up your sleeve, I still don’t know.”

Any fear that had once been with you before was far suppressed. You smirked at him. “I’m not sure what you know of the last three months, but I met one of your friends.” He eyed your continued pacing, not disclosing what he knew, so you continued. “I learned a lot. About her. About you. And, you could say, the experience enlightened me.”

His hand rested on his jaw, stroking a short line of stubble as he considered your words. “Your act really is convincing, but an act nonetheless. Why don’t you skip ahead and try to execute your little plan.”

You chuckled. “My plan? Do you sense any other presences here, Corson? Do you think I would be so foolish as to go after you on my own? Again? No. I’ve seen what you can do and I want in. I want to reestablish the glory of Solomon and I want to do it by your side. I want to willingly help you resurrect the kings of old.”

He shook his head. “For what? What could you possibly want with me, after you’ve told me how much I’ve brought you down?” 

You waltzed closer to him, your chest almost touching his. Your lips curved up towards his chin. “Power.” You reached your hand up towards his jaw but his hand sharply cut against your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “I never want to be that powerless again, that vulnerable, that weak. And I can only make that happen, with you. After all… You predicted this, didn’t you?”

***

The Winchesters and G arrived to an abandoned warehouse. The same one where they had originally attempted to summon Corson. Dean rubbed away a piece of the devil’s trap with his foot, not wanting G or Crowley to get stuck if action picked up.

Dean started the conversation. “So what’s the plan?”

G quickly answered. “I pray to the bastard. Say I am ready to make amends. You all distract him with your sticks leaving me with a clear and simple shot.” 

“It’s that easy?” Dean skeptically asked.

“A coordinated attack, five against one, with the element of surprise on our side. I’d say that gives us the best chance against an archangel. Wouldn’t you agree feathers?” She turned towards Castiel.

Castiel sighed. “Going up against any seraphim is pure suicide. I’m confident our circumstances, no matter how coordinated, do not affect those odds.”

Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for lifting the spirits, Cas.”

“So, if we are all in agreement of proceeding, shall we get religious?” G brought her hands together in a prayer.

Sam interrupted before she could continue. “You have the weapon, right?” He hadn’t recalled seeing it since they exited the Impala.

She scoffed. “Do I have the weapon?” She mocked, and reached to her back pulling out the blade. The shock on the Winchesters’ faces and look of confusion on Castiel’s immediately tipped her off. She looked down to her hand to find a plain angel blade. “That bitch.” She muttered under her breath.

“Is this some fucking joke?” Dean demanded. “Where is the goddamn blade!”

“Tell me, how good is your girl at pickpocketing?” G rolled her eyes.

Dean’s eyes darted back and forth until he put two and two together. “Castiel! The bunker!” Dean ordered.

***

Consor circled you. He considered the possibilities, the potential traps.

“You need my blood, after all, to release the two other kings. Why not take me back to Jerusalem, test my loyalty?” You suggested.

“Or I could finish you here and take what’s left of you back in a bucket.” He threatened.

You cleared your throat. “I take it you are a mind of great intellect, therefore you would know the pH levels of blood change post-mortem along with other potential changes.” You quickly thought on your feet. “Now, we know that my blood works when fresh and pumping, why risk the chance after so long simply because you don’t trust me.”

Corson laughed but then pondered the thought more seriously. “Well, Y/N.” He spat your name out. “You’ve twisted my arm.” He held out his hand. “Will you accompany me?”

You tenderly held out your hands to his.

“Y/N!” Castiel yelled.

Corson’s head whipped around and Castiel’s entrance was the distraction you needed. You immediately dropped the golden blade from your sleeve and forcefully thrust it up into his chest. He let out a deep howl and his body buzzed with electricity. It built up near the wound and exploded a burst of energy sending you and Castiel flying back. You managed to push yourself up of the floor to find Corson’s lifeless body laying there. You collapsed back to the ground, taking a deep breath. It was finished. Finally.

***

By the time the Winchesters and the others had arrived, you and Castiel had cleaned up. The body was burning in the woods outside and the only trace of Corson left was the shadow of wings forever etched into the cement floor.

Dean didn’t scorn or lecture you. He simply ran to you, holding you in an embrace without saying a word, thankful you were okay.

The rest of the day was hard for you. You stayed silent for most of it; processing your thoughts and emotions. Sam stopped by with the occasional ‘you okay?’ or the ressauring shoulder pat. And Dean, well, he respected your thoughtfulness but stayed close; only leaving you for a few minutes at a time.

It took every ounce of willpower not to stare at the outline on the floor. So instead you settled in the library, book in hand, flipping pages at random to pretend you were actually reading. Corson had occupied your mind for so long, and even now that he was gone, his presence still lingered with you. You could see his glowing blue eyes in the back of your mind, calling you, taunting you. He had taken everything from you and even though your revenge was fulfilled, you still felt empty. Your life was still destroyed and left meaningless.

Sam cleared his throat catching your attention. He was seated at the opposite table, nose buried in a book as well. Dean sat across from you, watching some show on his laptop and twirling a fork in a bowl of noodles. No. You wouldn’t let Corson continue to win. What he did was horrible, but what you had built from it was beautiful. You were surrounded by the two people you cared about most in the world. You built a set of skills and with them you were more powerful than you had ever been. But it was more than that, it gave your life meaning. You had saved so many lives and brought justice to so many deaths, not just your own families. And you would continue to do so.

***

It was morning when Dean found you packing your duffle. You had been dreading this moment since last night.

Dean bit his lip, afraid of what was to come. “Got a case?”

“Yeah.” You bleakly answered, zipping up your bag.

“You going alone?” He asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

You nodded your head.

“Are…” He caught his breath before he continued. “Are you going to come back?”

You sighed, a tear forming in your eye. “I don’t know.” 

Dean’s heart ripped apart. “As far as I am concerned this is your home.”

You lightly chuckled. “Sam said the same thing last night.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Dean, I just need some time. I’ve been seeking revenge for so long, I need to figure out who I am without it.”

“Yeah.” He wiped at the corner of his eye. “Yeah I get it.” 

“Hey. We’ve run into each other on cases before, I’m sure we will again.” You tried to reassure him.

He nodded. “And uh, if you ever cross country, you gotta place to lay your head. Stop back home every now and then.”

“I will.” You promised him.

He noticed the wig tossed in the trash can. “You uh, leaving Mike behind.”

You chewed your lip, stifling a whimper and placed your hand over your heart. “The real Mike.. He’ll always be with me, right here. It’s time..” You grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder restarting your thought. “I know Mike’s a good hunter, time to find out if Y/N’s any good as well.”

“She always has been, with or without the wig.” He embraced you in a hug goodbye, his hand in your hair holding your head tight against his chest. Relishing every second, not knowing when he’d get to next.

***

Outside, Sam had brought about a loner car to the drive. You threw your bags into the back seat, jumped in, and started the engine. Although from the 50s, its quality far surpassed your old beater. You pulled it into drive when a figure appeared in your passenger seat.

“Hello lovely.” G wiggled her fingers your way. 

“Nope.” You immediately objected, throwing the gear back into park.

She ignored your protest. “Thought you could use a partner.”

“It’s not going to happen.” You stood firm.

She opened the glove box searching through. “So, where are we going.”

You went for the angel blade stored in your boot. “You are making a lousy ‘head start’ from our bargain.’’

Unsatisfied, she shut the compartment back up and examined her nails, unconcerned of your threat. “It’s the best of both worlds, sweetie. You get to keep an eye on me, I get to hang out with my bestie and learn more about what I missed the last milenia.”

You put the blade back. She had a point. “It will be done by my rules. Any stench of foul play and your gone.”

“Done.” She agreed.

“Starting with that body.” You instructed. She rolled her eyes. “Find one you’re not taking a life from.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“Recently deceased, comatose patient. Get creative.” You suggested.

“And then?” She perked an eyebrow.

“Meet me in Salem, Massachusetts. We have a case.” You shifted back into drive.

G smirked and then disappeared.


End file.
